Season Two Redo
by Aurora2424
Summary: This is my version of how the DA story line might have gone in a different direction had Max spent more time in Manticore and used the memory loss technique demonstrated by Zack in the first season. ML
1. Chapter 1

This fanfic is written after the Season 1 finale. I feel there were some slight inconsistencies with the second season, although I did enjoy it, and this is my speculation on what would have happened if the writers had decided to take it in a different direction. I do use some of the references from the second season, as well as the background provided in the books. I obviously don't own the characters.

Manticore, after the final scene with Renfro…..

As her horror at Zack's sacrifice finally began to subside, and as her or as she could only think of it, _his_ heart, began to slow - Max was finally able to comprehend the impossibility of her situation. Strapped to a bed, weakened, and surrounded by hundreds of Manticore-issued soldiers – Max wasn't going to escape. And given what Renfro had said, it seemed likely that she was presumed dead by anyone who would want to rescue her. Were it not for the terrible danger she perceived, Max may have plunged into a state of utter hopelessness and despondency. However, the danger she perceived wasn't just for herself, but as Max surmised, for everyone she loved.

Strapped to the bed, her body mending, she knew it wouldn't be long before Manticore began subjecting her to the re-indoctrination process. But not before its minions did everything they could to learn her secrets. Like Zack before her, Max knew that Manticore's team of specialists would attempt to pry open her mind to find, not only her siblings, but any other potential tactical information they could use.

And as her training had taught her, Max knew Manticore couldn't be resisted, not really, not forever, at least not as she was. They would break her and no detail of her past life would be overlooked, everything from Original Cindy's latest love interest to Sketchy's latest scheme would be probed and handled and discussed. So despite her exhaustion, the pain from the heart transplant still bearing down on her repairing body – Max knew she needed to forget her non-Manticore past. Her life in Seattle: her friends, her job, and most importantly Logan. The task wouldn't be easy, particularly forgetting Logan, but with her love for him, which Manticore would see as a weakness they could use to exploit, came his secret identity as Eyes Only. Despite her desire to hold onto something, keep a part of her past life, Max knew that her love for Logan was tied with her admiration for his deeds. The two couldn't be separated, and so Max closed her eyes; relived their last embrace; and began practicing the blanking techniques that Manticore had taught her long ago….


	2. Chapter 2

The head of the Manticore coercion team wasn't happy. X5 designation 452 wasn't responding to his tactics: every tele-coercion specialist, laser treatment, and brain scanning technology had been used. Torture had also been implemented, but only briefly since the chain of command had given strict orders that 452 needed to be in suitable physical condition for re-admittance training.

However, despite these tactics, the mind of 452 remained locked; not just to Manticore, the scientist knew, but to herself as well. The blanking technique was the most effective means of resisting coercion, and was only encouraged in the most dire of circumstances since a reversal process was damn near impossible in enemy territory. So he continued to search for a memory or feeling that she had left unguarded, something his team could use to pry open the window, but as of yet, 452 remained impenetrable.

Scientist Tom Avery wasn't exactly surprised by the use of the mind tactic, but he was surprised to the extent to which 452 had gone. Not only had she blocked out her last mission, but she seemed to have blocked out the entire last three years of her life. She remembered leaving Manticore, her life with her foster family, and her stint as the thief in LA – all participants inconveniently dead or disappeared – but her life in Seattle, where she had worked, lived, and loved was just… gone. Even Zack, her formidable fellow X5, had left a trace – his memory of Max undiminished, if inaccessible. It seems 452 had been more careful.

"Damn," thought Avery. If only that hadn't given her so much time in recovery, she wouldn't have been able to do such a thorough job. Nevertheless, the delay had been necessary. They had needed her healed before commencing the taxing process of mind-probing.

Much of what was once Max Guevera was lost. What wasn't gone was 452's sarcastic wit and defiant posturing. As Avery entered the examination room, he carefully side-stepped the side of the chair 452 was strapped to – her boot having already made contact with his groin on one memorable occasion.

"Doctor, how good of you to join us this morning. I was just telling your staff of this memory I was having."

"Really?" Avery replied, in a distracted voice, already familiar enough with 452's witticism to not rise to the bait.

"Yeah, it's this memory of a sicko man shooting down a nine-year old girl in cold blood, and a bunch of adults doing nothing to stop him. Maybe you should call the authorities and tell them about it. It will go right along with that one I remembered about a bunch of doctors breaking children's arms and legs to see how long it would take them to heal." – Max's voice edged and sarcastic.

The doctor didn't respond, simply turned on the machine that would project various images into Max's mind while the computer monitored the emotional core of Max's brain to see if any spikes would occur. Various images of Seattle, and other cities, came into focus. It was a last ditch effort, and the doctor knew it.

As the machine recorded its data, the bleached, blond short haired Dr. Renfro entered the room. Though slight in figure, the woman carried a sinister air that vibrated with barely concealed power. She was ruthless, and Avery knew it, and she was displeased with their lack of progress.

"Anything?" She asked.

Avery shook his head, "We thought there was a slight spike when we brought up an image of the Space Needle, but no such repetition happened this time."

Renfro sighed. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. If she's hidden this so well from us, chances are she'll never be able to recall it on her own. Besides, she needs to begin the indoctrination soon. I'm tired of that mouth."

Despite her words, Renfro was anything but resigned to 452's lack of response to the mind probes. Recent evidence suggested that 452's life before returning to Manticore had been anything but ordinary. Since her capture, the cyber terrorist, Eyes Only, had been focusing all his efforts on bringing down Manticore with a single-mindedness previously unknown. The intensity of the attacks, as well as some knowledge of 452's previous whereabouts, suggested that there was a closer link between 452 and Eyes Only than had previously been guessed. If it wasn't for other, more pressing concerns, Renfro would be tempted to try more elaborate, sustained probes – but the pressure from her bosses was mounting.

Since the destruction of the genetics lab, quite a few voices from the top had expressed the desire to close the project once and for all. The number of dissenters, which had begun to grow with the loss of the 12 X5s eleven years ago, had gained in number as numerous members of the military protested the expense and effort of rebuilding the heart of Manticore project after the destruction.

That's why Renfro needed 452. Not only could she use the extra body whose presence could be sent on numerous missions, but she needed to see if 452 carried the correct genetic sequencing that would allow her to reproduce "super" kids. That is what Renfro had been looking for when she had captured the X5 called Tinga – the genetic sequence that would allow her to produce more soldiers, at less expense, with greater genetic variety than could currently be manufactured.

It wasn't that the X7's weren't a victory – all 20 of them were fine soldiers. But beyond their strict obedience, something that had been inbred to a detrimental degree in the X6s in order make up for the rogue actions of the X5s, they lacked a quality of what Renfro could only call "humanness." Not that that alone bothered her, though it did bother something of the higher ranking officials who wanted to see the new generation of genetically enhanced killing machines. The X7s also had some disturbing genetic flaws that had already struck down half of the "class" and those not inflicted with this particular flaw needed intense doses of medication to keep them stable, making long-range missions nearly impossible. Even now, 452's enhanced X7 clone was dying of a seemingly unstoppable genetic deterioration. The same had happened to her X6 model – who had also lacked the independence of mind to make in field battle decisions.

As much as she hated to admit it, Renfro knew that the X5 models were the only ones that Manticore could consider a physical "success," and given the post-pulse, post-genetic lab world she now lived in – Renfro needed a new "mommy" for the next group of super soldiers - badly.

Renfro signed again. When they had captured Tinga, those in charge had felt her life to be expendable – the genetics lab still up and running. Her genetic code the only clue they needed. However, the data alone had proved inconclusive. No particular pattern seemed to stand out as the reason her own little boy, produced with a common citizen no less, had inherited his mother's special gifts. Likewise, Brin and the handful of female X5s had proved reproductively useless. Renfro would have liked a chance to study the boy himself, but, as of now, that wasn't possible.

Renfro was snapped out of her musing by the scientist Avery: "She's all yours," he replied, attempting to keep the relief from his voice. Despite his best efforts to hide his discomfort with Renfro's constant presence, he got the feeling she could see right through him.

"Good, make sure those in medical wing inform me when 452 is healthy enough to begin training."

"Yes ma'am"

As Avery disconnected Max from the machine he was relieved to see she was still breathing and not just to save his Manticore hide. Although the doctor certainly didn't feel any sympathy for 452, he did respect the powers of a formidable opponent – and "Max" as he called her in his head, was certainly one. In a way, between her strong mental powers and constant trash talk, 452 had added color to his otherwise gray world.

It was power that Max had on most people's lives.

Author's Note: In my world, I consider the production of the Manticore soldiers to be much more difficult and time consuming – and, therefore, a major point of consideration. Afterall, Max and her brothers and sisters needed mothers to carry them to term and were the first "successful" soldiers. I also have an issue with the subject of cloning. If Max had really been cloned, why wouldn't Lydecker and those at Manticore already know what Max looked like in season one? Therefore, in this story the clones of the Manticore X5s don't exist – though I may include an Alec character who you may imagine as the same actor, though he won't be a clone of Ben. Sorry…

--

Logan Cale, or what seemed to be left of Logan Cale, had just finished his latest cable hack. And like most of them over the last six months, it was related to Manticore. The cyberjournalist's own life had been distinctly monolithic since the "death" of Max. His days moved in a successive flow of research, broadcasts, and information exchanges. The "human" aspects of Logan's life: the cooking, grooming, joking, and laughing that had once punctuated his existence had been carried away with the beautiful, dangerous Max who had turned his world upside down.

For someone like Logan, life had never really been about the little things. Although he loved truth, beauty, freedom and art; although he respected and aided human life with everything he had; his altruism had always been from a safe, benevolent distance. It wasn't because he was a cold individual, just the opposite. Logan was passionate and involved. Anything he did, he did with an intensity and focus that couldn't be restrained. That's what made him cautious and reserved. He simply couldn't stand to involve himself so deeply in the short-sighted, tangible problems of human life. So, after a few short, painful forays into the world of human interaction, like his ex-wife, Logan had removed himself with a leveling, calming distance.

From there, Logan Cale had accomplished much. His Eyes Only alter-ego had helped him channel his wealth and social position into an untraceable and untouchable place that allowed him to champion the ideals he clung to. Whatever he missed out in close, personal relations he more than made up for through sheer intellect and daring. Or so Logan thought.

But the night Logan met Max, he felt a keen and overpowering interest. It wasn't terribly different than the interest he often felt when Eyes Only found a new story to cover - only more disturbingly personal. Within their first few meetings, that interest had transformed into a consuming fascination. It wasn't just her physicality, although that certainly was a part. Like most things he was attracted to, both physically and ideologically, Max was exquisitely beautiful – and, tangibly, out of reach. And as with most things he desired, Logan was motivated to learn everything he could about that object – and how he could achieve it.

At first, he thought he simply wanted her to help with his other projects, enjoying the idea of fighting injustice with one originally bred to fight institutional resistance like his own. However, the desire soon transformed into something else, for in his quest to know her, Logan had encountered a strikingly similar being. Like Logan, who watched life from a penthouse apartment, Max watched the world from a distance – judging, helping, sympathizing, but always far enough away not to share in the emotional fall out.

Likewise, he could sense in her the same intense loneliness and passion – the same simultaneous vulnerability of person and arrogance in ability. And what Logan could not fix in himself, he desperately wanted to fix in Max. He wanted to give her the stability, gentleness, and empathy she'd never had. But unfortunately for them both, Logan's own walls were equally difficult to surmount.

The progression between the two had been inevitably slow. But it was made more difficult by Logan's paralysis, which retarded his ability to allow the super-human, Max, in. When Logan lost the use of his legs, he figured he lost the most useful part of himself. For the attractive and confident young man, his physicality was inextricably linked with his vitality and virility.

And this mindset was a degenerative disease that nearly ruined his connection with Max. The longer Logan was confined, boxed in, the more he became despondent. Indeed, after his injury, if he hadn't had Max to color his world, to keep it moving in the inevitable circles of her coming and going, Logan Cale would probably have lost his extraordinary powers of caring. With her, he learned to expand those abilities by channeling them through her. Her vulnerability with him allowed him to do the same. And gradually, without even knowing it, Logan began to let go.

It became less about acquiring and fixing – and more about sharing. Right before the Manticore mission, Logan and Max had traveled the greatest distance they had ever gone; each allowing the strongest person they knew, the other, to see them at their weakest. Their mutual acceptance was an epiphany, a catharsis, and a new beginning all in one.

That was until he lost her.

Now an impersonal, automaton sat in Logon Cale's seat. His obsession was taking revenge on the institution which had killed the singularly most beautiful individual he had ever known. In a perverse way, the creators of Max should have been proud of the focus they had inspired in this man. They had made him a soldier, cruel and controlled in his mission. But inside, Logan felt nothing but a constant vacillation between pain and apathy. Max had tore open his insides and without her to fill the spot, it was empty and bleeding. Between his bouts of great energy, Logon would sit very still – it was too painful to move.


	3. Chapter 3

Manticore…..

Looking into the camera, Renfro didn't flinch under the committee's heavy scrutiny.

"Gentlemen, the rebuilding process has already begun and no additional funding will be required. Of that you have my word."

"That's good to hear, Dr. Renfro. Because let me assure you, the committee isn't interested in approving a new budget to fix a broken project," responded the grim face on the screen. "Remember, you're on more than just fiscally unstable ground."

"Yes sir," stated Renfro, with only a hint of veiled animosity in her voice. "I'll have the reports to you as soon as possible."

"We would expect nothing less."

The connection between the comlinks abruptly ended, and Renfro took only a small pause before pressing the buzzer to send in the latest reports.

Two teams of Manticore personnel entered and Renfro signaled to the one to begin their presentation.

"Ma'am… we have found conclusive evidence about the X7 genetic degeneration," the man paused and waited for Renfro to nod before continuing. "Our tests indicate that the cell centers of the X7s contain a variety of incompatible genetic data. Within the X7s it seems a genetic mutation is occurring due to the large amount of unused genetic material which begins to replicates as competitive genetic sequences. This new DNA pattern creates confusion within body's system and the responsive chemical process, which is the body's attempt to regulate the system, self-destructs the unidentifiable cells and the body's original cellular pattern."

"So what you're telling me gentlemen. Is the X7's bodies are internally self-destructing because of warring genetic codes."

"Yes ma'am."

"And you're telling me with millions of dollars of government funding on the line, no one bothered to check the stability of the cellular structure?," although Renfro's voice might have been described as composed there was no mistaking the implied threat that radiated from her demeanor.

Despite his obvious discomfort the reporter continued: "It seems not ma'am. After the pulse, research funding has been short and the vast majority of effort has been directed at production. In basics, the X7s are no different from the early models – their just an expansion of the original theoretic assumptions."

"So what prevents these "mutations" from taking place in the other X series," simmered Renfro.

"Well, from what we can tell the X5s and X6s do have a certain genetic "problems" that can lead to spontaneous cell destruction, most notably certain X5s' inability to properly process serotonin which has led to seizures in several of them. But, in regards to their DNA pattern, when their bodies do develop mutated genes, and as you know we've had a few instances of this, the new genes are not so fundamentally different that the body destroys the old gene patterns. We are able to re-activate the old genetic sequence to prevent further degeneration, as we did in 534."

The scientist paused to clear his throat before continuing. "We believe this difference is linked to combination of outside genetic sequencing used to create the X7 series. As you'll remember ma'am, the majority of the animal DNA used in the X5's is mammal-based. At the time, we didn't have the technology to create a physically humanoid body, a necessity, with an abundance of alternative sequences. Nor did we wish to overburden the cell-structure"

Renfro nodded.

"Well when we created the X7s, we paid less attention to the physical attributes, and focused more on useful combat characteristics – hence the nocturnal, heat-sensor eyes of the X7s and their high-frequency supersonic communication. In doing so, we, apparently, jeopardized the integrity and unification of their cellular structure. Their bodies are attempting to mutate to accommodate their more insect-like internal cellular patterns."

"Is there any way we can keep them from undergoing this 'metamorphosis,'" Renfro questioned.

The scientist smiled at the ironic use of the word, but quickly returned his mouth to a more appropriately neutral expression at Renfro's frown.

"No known "cure" but continuing to dose the X7s with high levels of human hormones will prevent their bodies from over-straining to produce the necessary enzymes and should delay the process."

Internally, Renfro swore, the treatment was expensive and would require them to prioritize their efforts. However, to the team of experts, her face remained impassive.

"Talk to the combat leaders and tell them to create a list of their top performers. We'll continue to treat the top dozen soldiers. Next report."

If the men felt any surprise at the swift decision to end half a dozen ten-year old lives, they were wise enough to hide it.

The next team leader took the lead. "Ma'am we've completed our physical examination of X452's DNA structure and have completed most of the tests on her reproductive capacity."

Continuing quickly, "X452's DNA reveals a slight variation from her X6 and X7 models, beyond those engineered by Manticore."

Renfro jumped on this new information. "How's that possible."

"It seems that 452 developed a slight mutation in her genetic pattern while invitro. It's the only explanation that seems plausible. There is reason to suggest more of a link between the surrogate carrier and the offspring than has originally been suspected. Especially when the surrogate was the primary source of the basic female genetic DNA used to create the soldier."

"How much of the surrogate's original genetic pattern was used from her egg?"

"Our records suggest around 45 percent, but the coding used was primarily just the basic anatomical structure. Most of the X series important functions, intellectually and physically, were engineered. Even most of the sequences from the surrogated were altered in some way."

"Tell me doctor," Renfro nearly whispered, "weren't the same surrogates used for the second group of X5s."

"Yes ma'am. But according to our records the surrogate who carried X452 didn't continue into the second round. Apparently, the woman had to be sedated throughout the entire third trimester with 452. The woman, it seems, didn't want to give the soldier up to Manticore."

Renfro leaned back in her chair and scoffed at the idea. Who could possibly be ignorant enough to think once they had entered into a top priority government program that she would be able to just walk off with millions of dollars of genetic research in her body? Apparently, like mother like daughter.

"Doctor, call in our tactical advisor. I want that woman found."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fogle Towers….

As Logan surveyed his apartment, he attempted to estimate how many hundreds of millions of dollars of government funding were represented within his walls.

Pacing around, perched on counters and couch-arms, and staring out windows were gathered all seven of Max's brothers and sisters left who had escaped with her from Manticore. Funny how after searching a year for them, they'd shown up the moment he stopped looking.

A year ago, Logan thought, he would have dreamed of turning them into Eyes Only's personal army. An unstoppable group of soldiers all striving to right the wrongs of the world and protect the common man. Never mind that one group, let alone one man, should never have that much power.

Logan sighed. How hollow that seemed now.

The X5s were mostly silent, each mulling over the meeting with Lydecker they had just gotten back from. Although Lydecker had long since guessed Logan's connection to Eyes Only, Logan wasn't about to hand him his address. Nevertheless, Lydecker's presence seemed to loom over the apartment. And his words, Logan knew, were echoing in the X5's ears despite their attempts to dismiss them.

"It would be a tactical error to go back now." Lydecked had insisted with the confidence of a general. "They know their perimeter and monitoring system have been breached and will recall their agents from assignment and keep the X7s on high alert until they feel secure again."

The expression on the X5s had remained stony and cold. It was Jondy who finally spoke up: "We can't just leave Zack there. He's nearly died the last time he was exposed to their psy-ops team."

She hadn't articulated what they'd all been thinking… When Lydecker's team had nearly killed Zack.

"He's tough, he won't break. They'll also wait until he's healed enough from his wound before proceeding. I'd say we have another week before they attempt any invasive techniques." Whatever Lydecker was, thought Logan, he had to give him credit for not flinching under the X5's knowing and murderous gazes.

"Dammit Lydecker!" bellowed Seth , the X5 Logan had already associated with a quick temper, as he banged the table they were seated around. "They've already had him for five weeks, they could have already subjected he to all types of twisted, sadistic forms of probing."

"But the point is they won't, not yet. And let me add, you're not going to get another shot at this. Manticore is weak right now, and it will continue to weaken from within. Any external pressure though, and the committee will see the project as a potential security risk to the military. They'll dismantle it and scatter its participants to the wind so fast that it'll take you years, not weeks to find everyone."

At that Lydecker had leaned back in the chair and stared each one, as if daring them to contradict him, before he continued. "Remember: Far more dangerous is the enemy I can't see, then the one I can watch."

As a united body, they seemed to shift in the chairs. They were aching to strangle him, his words, and the memories they invoked. But, they knew he was right.

Logan sympathized with their impatience. Had Max been there, had he known she was being tortured as he sat talking, he doubted he would have been able to wait. Most likely he would have gone charging up to the gates with the gun and a prayer, or more likely, a gun and seven angry X5s who only needed a spark before exploding. As it was, he could barely contain his impatience for vengeance.

"And as for the Eyes Only broadcasts," Lydecker pointedly continued, turning to Logan, "please pass on to our 'friend' that they should continue. It will keep the recent destruction of the lab in the forefront of the committee's mind." Logan had nodded at that, although he hardly needed a reason to continue his crusade.

Even now, sitting in his apartment, Logan could barely restrain himself from doing another broadcast; the fact that Manticore was still there, that it dared to brazenly continue to exist despite destroying Max made Logan's fists clench and blood-pressure rise. If he had been given the chance, he would obliterate the entire operation; destroyed the people and the building piece by piece. It wasn't about justice anymore, it was about revenge.

The X5s seemed to share the sentiment. Since they had returned, the tension in the apartment was palpable. And no one spoke until Seth unintentionally shattered the glass he was holding. "Sorry," he mumbled to Logan who was seated at his desk.

The X5s eyes had snapped up at the sound, and a rare smiled came to many of their faces as they watched Seth's sullen apology.

Coreen, the dark-haired, light eyed Indian X5 walked over to him and ruffled his sandy-colored hair. "It'll be okay bro, we'll get him out."

"And kick the ass of some Manticore soldiers while we're at it," piped up Syl, the blond X5 who had accompanied Max on the first Manticore mission.

"Yeah, but who's going to break it to Zack that we've been gathered in one location for nearly two weeks," smiled Krit. That received some chuckles and the mood lightened ever so slightly.

"Probably the same person who's going to tell him that you broke into his "secure" voicemail system," replied Syl.

At that, Krit outright chuckled, "Tell him not to make the code so easy to break next time."

That had caused smirks, but also concerned eyes to flicker in Logan's direction. Although he probably hadn't realized it, Zack's code had been a reordered version of the last eight digits of Max's bar code.

As if penitent of the memory he invoked, Krit came to stand by Logan. Although he gave the pretense of looking at the screen, Kirk's voice had dropped several decimals as he said, "poor Zack, that code had already been cracked."

Logan knew what he meant, but didn't respond. It was commonly accepted by Max's brothers and sisters that she had been in love with Logan. Syl and Krit had seen their interaction before the Manticore mission and had recognized it for the type of intimacy X5s didn't usually bestow on anyone but their own. As was their way, the X5 family had accepted Logan as their responsibility and friend in much the same way that Logan had seen Max embrace Tinga's family. He had a pass into their secret world as few ever would, and his computer skills and Eyes Only connections had been recognized as valuable tactical tools. Logan comprehended the enormous gift that their acceptance was, and had internally smiled more than once as he thought that, even in death, Max continued to add to his world by giving him her family.

However, at times like this, Logan felt like a fraud. After months of denying they were "like that" the few moments they spent with the promise of future intimacy seemed to pale in comparison to all they hadn't shared. Logan knew Max had cared on some level, had felt a certain connect with him in some way, but watching the interaction of the X5s, he realized just how many things he had yet to understand about Max.

For example, despite the obvious and overwhelming love they felt for Zack; the group had rarely even allowed themselves to show more than tightly held concern. Even with one another they remained slightly aloof, afraid to break down and express the pain that must come from having lost three sisters, Tinga, Max, and Brin; and two brothers, Ben and Zack, in the space of a year. It was the same kind of distance that Logan had often resented Max for, feeling it as a personal slight.

This misunderstood aspect of her personality became more apparent when the group had been looking to find Ben for their "reunion." Realizing that they hadn't heard the news, Logan had needed to tell them of the serial killings lthat were inked to Ben and Max's cryptic response about her meeting with Ben.

Logan had been hurt at the time; felt that Max was pushing away from him by simply responding: "It's over. He won't be hurting anyone again," as if she somehow distrusted him with the truth. That's not how the gathered X5s's had responded. Unlike Logan, they seemed to instantly and universally understand what had happened.

"Poor Maxie," had been Jondy's response as the other shook their heads in agreement.

Logon had looked at her with surprise, shocked at the intense pity in her voice. In answer to his unspoken questions, Jondy replied: "She had to kill him."

"Why would you assume that," Logan had asked, afraid of the answer.

"Because she would have needed to save him in one way or another; if he wouldn't come back with her there is only one choice."

"But…" Logan had begun.

"Logan," Jondy had interrupted, "we're not judging her. We understand what she did and why she had to do it. We know she would have tried anything and everything else before that. Ben's death must have killed her, it would have killed any of us, but particularly Max – but, she couldn't have allowed him to keep hurting himself. I'm just glad she didn't run away after it happened; that she told you."

And that's when Logan had realized, in her way, Max had told him what she did – had told him with her eyes and mannerism – and begged for his acceptance. Had he given it to her at the time? He wasn't sure.

As if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken, Krit put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "We'll avenge her, Logan. I intend to keep that promise."

Looking into the young X5's face, Logan knew he was remembering the pact he had made with Logan shortly after Max's death. It had taken place nearly three weeks ago….

After Logan had woken up in the van, he had gone home and sat on his couch for days. The entire universe seemed to respect his desire to remain still, and he never knew for certain how many days had passed before the knock on the door came. He had suspected it would be Bling, Original Cindy, or an informant. Someone who had finally realized that he hadn't been in contact for a while. If he had cared enough to think about it, he might have been surprised that no one had come until now.

He wouldn't have bothered to answer the door now, except for an odd sensation that arose from his addled mind. Max rarely bothered to knock, but when she did it seem to have its own unique rhyme. To Logan's sensitive ears, it had seemed like the self-assured knock of someone who knew she needn't bother to give the nicety, but who condescended to do so. He loved her knock. It was that ring of arrogance that he heard then which had propelled him to go answer the door. Even though he knew it was completely irrational and totally impossible, even though he knew he'd be disappointed he had still opened the door….expecting.

Krit was standing there.

The young man could have been Max's biological sibling; he had the same exotic, dark good looks, plush lips and lean build. He even carried himself with a similar cat-like grace as Max, despite being overtly masculine. Logan comprehended in that moment that Krit too understood the associations his presence would evoke and had elected to come here because of it.

They didn't speak, but Logan held the door open and stood back, to let him know he could come in.

Once inside, Krit had looked long and hard at Logan before speaking: "Interested in revenge?"

That had been it; Logan was in the inner-circle. He had stood by and helped as it took two weeks for Krit to crack Zack's code. He had provided the necessary documentation for the X5s to travel from around the U.S. and three other countries to gather in Seattle. He provided a base of operation and a never ending sounding board.

As the dark cloud of his depression began to lift slightly, Logan gradually realized that it had been Max's brothers and sisters who had guarded his door, protected him from intrusion, and revealed Max's death to her friends – so Logan would be free to mourn. In particular, it had been Krit who had forced him to eat and shower before participating in the plans against Manticore, and it had been Jondy who often stopped by to "check in" when they were waiting for their plans to come to fruition. As often happened now, Logan was reminded of Max's words when she had gone to protect Tinga's son: "She'd do the same for me." As in many things, Max had been right.


	4. Chapter 4

"Tell me about her."

Three more weeks had passed since the meeting with Lydecker. The seven X5's were once more gathered in Logan's apartment going over the layout of the facility and discussing probes into the surveillance system.

At the sound of Logan's question, Syl, Zane, and Coreen looked up from the blue-prints in front of them; Seth, Derek, and Krit looked over from their place in front of the computer monitor; and Jondy paused in her walk from the kitchen.

In the five weeks he had spent with Max's family, and it was only as such he could now think of them, Logan had begun to differentiate the super-soldiers as easily and readily as he would any group of friends. As in most groups of like individuals, the slight differences became increasingly marked the longer one spent with them; Seth's quick temper and fast contrition; Zane's wit and charm; Derek's quiet and gentle mannerisms; Coreen's stateliness and maternal nature; Syl's arrogance and humor. Sure they were all genetically enhanced, well-trained soldiers; cool, collected, and strong – but they were also distinct individuals who felt a deep connection to one another.

So now, as he asked the question he had been desiring to ask for weeks, although he meant the question for all of them, Logan directed his gaze at Jondy. Logan knew Jondy was the most emotionally "adept" of the group, including himself. Functioning as the emotional conduit of her siblings, she seemed able to articulate their feelings in a way that Manticore had never taught them. She was always the first to give affectionate gestures, to smile at jokes, and to fill with concern. She was also the only one who was able to understand what Logan wanted from them.

Continuing her walk to the couches, Jondy sat across from Logan looking him in the eyes. "She was the one who insisted on names, did you know that?" Jondy's voice was quiet, almost soft, but steady.

When Logan shook his head, she continued. "We were studying history, a crash course in people and politics throughout the world. Manticore apparently wanted us to understand the fundamentals of our "targets." But for Max it seemed to open up her horizons. She wanted to be a part of that world and to her, identity was deeply linked to that; she wanted each of us to have our own identities that Manticore couldn't take away. That's not exactly what she said, but it's what she meant. We were six."

From across the room Seth added: "Do you remember how Zack originally resisted the idea; accused Max about being "overly sentimental."

"Yeah," replied Coreen, "And I remember her making the "logical" argument to him that future students would have difficulty remembering who we were, and might get in trouble, with only our bar codes. She named him first didn't she, after a U.S. president we'd been studying?"

Seth sniffed, "He changed his tune pretty quickly after that."

"Of course he did," smiled Jondy. "And he helped contribute to the rest of our names. Some of them ended up coming from historic figures, others were a take from personal attributes or memorable events.

Turning back to Logan, Jondy continued. "Max was christened with her name after Lydecker had been screaming at her for hours about achieving "maximum velocity" on her kicks. When she finally flattened Zack, we decided she deserved the name."

That memory brought a smile to the entire group of X5s who had gradually wondered over to the seating area as the conversation continued. Once confronted by the challenge, Max's family seemed willing to revisit the less painful moments of their childhood.

"She was always good to have on your team; strong in battle," added Seth, "always in the top three in hand-to-hand combat and tactical decisions. The best at escape and evade…… Creative"

At a different time, Logan might have been offended at the reference to Max's military skills, but what he had come to realize in the weeks since hooking up with Manticore's missing sons and daughters was that part of their identity was still based on those early missions. Although any of them could probably beat the top U.S. soldiers in any area of specialty, they deferred to one another when it came to certain recognized "strengths." Somehow it was easier to discuss themselves in this military "code" - easier for them to quantify and label their interactions.

"But horrible in session," smirked Zane. "Maxie was an in-field performer. Give her an inactive assignment and her plan would inevitably be flawed, but put her on the spot and she always succeed."

"That's our Maxie," smile Krit. The pause that followed this exchanged was filled with personal reminiscences and not a few painful recollections.

It was Syl who finally broke the silence. "But that's not it…. I mean, Maxie… she wanted us to see more; see things differently. Us as a family… she understood…." Unable to articulate what she meant, Syl paused.

Slowly, Syl tried a different approach. "I remember this one time when I had mixed up the directions of our mission and misdirected my unit; Zack attempted to take the blame, but one of Lydecker's flunkies zeroed in on me and began cursing my ineptitude, telling me all all I was was a soldier, and if I wasn't a good soldier I was nothing, less than nothing – a liability to my unit. I spent two hours standing in front of our squadron as this guy waxed on about my failure and how one failure leads to total failure. He said we're better off with a few soldiers we can trust than a legion of those we can't."

"I didn't say anything, didn't show any emotion – just took what he said. But that night, when everyone was suppose to be asleep, Max, she crawled into my bed, put her arms around me and every so often repeated my name. I knew what she meant, knew what she was saying."

Logan tried to catch Syl's eye, aware that she felt vulnerable by her story. He wanted to reassure her that he appreciated her candidness that he too understood what she had been trying to say.

Seth awkwardly cleared his throat: "Yeah, remember how she'd sit there, listening to Ben's stories, long after we should have been asleep. Indulging him, Zack would say. But you know, she use to indulge Zack too… and me – listening to our made up stories about combat and how we'd act in certain scenarios, giving us new strategic puzzles to figure out. It was our game."

Derek's voice was barely audible when as he finally spoke: "Remember how excited she was when she found that red balloon in the tree, the one Zack pulled down for her…. Remember how all of us, for weeks afterwards, made up stories about how it got there."

The murmurs of assent rose softly from the other X5's, and somewhere in the background Logan recognized the quiet patter of rain against the windows as Max's brother and sisters continued their eulogy for their lost sister.

Manticore…

In the end, Max hadn't been that difficult to break. Without her memories to cling to, she had been a sitting duck for Manticore's indoctrination process. Though, it hadn't been the torture, the nearly two weeks without food or water that had finally caused her to repeat her designation: 452, or even the images of fidelity, duty, and discipline that had been directly projected on her retina. No, in the end, it had been her desire for family that had been Max's undoing.

Early on in Max's return to Manticore, the X5 who had previously been known as Brin had knocked on Renfro's office door. If Renfro was surprised at seeing the usually reserved soldier seeking her out, she didn't show it. Instead, she had crossed her arms in front of her as she leaned back in the chair, waiting for the X5 to inform her of the reason for her visit.

"Ma'am." Brin saluted her.

"Yes 734? What do you have on your mind."

"Ma'am I was informed that you have one of my sisters, X452, in custody and are going to begin her indoctrination process soon."

"That's accurate," replied Renfro, leaning forward slightly, suddenly interested in where this conversation was heading. "Are you here to express some objection?"

"No ma'am. I was here because, as I'm sure you're aware, I have intimate experience with the soldier in question. Not only were we trained together, but it was 452 who headed me off during the recent genetic lab explosion. I believe this qualifies me to give certain insights into her psychological make-up that could potentially be used in bringing her back into the fold."

"Psychological make-up… do continue 734."

Glancing quickly at Renfro to gauge her response, 734 continued on: "452 has always demonstrated a certain manic obsession with the notion of family, ma'am. Even after she encountered my resistance to her person, she still wished to take me away from Manticore – bring me back into the family, so to speak. I also know 452's ability to withstand physical coercion. Whether or not she remembers her time after Manticore, she does remember her life here and directly after. Her allegiance will not be easily won, not through traditional channels anyway."

"So what is it, exactly, 734 that you're proposing?"

"Ma'am I request permission to insert myself into 452's life. Once I begin to re-inhabit the role of sister, which 452 has no recollection of me ever resisting, I will be able to both perform surveillance on her inner thoughts as well as influence her outlook."

Dr. Renfro wasn't a kind woman; in fact, she could fairly be described as a power hunger monomaniac. She enjoyed the thrill of power that torturing gave her, but she was also smart enough to recognize the subtler versions of the art when they were presented to her – especially when they provided her with more expeditious means to her end. The ability to use the bonds of family to corrupt 452 was strikingly delicious; though Renfro was intelligent enough to see the risks.

"And tell me 734, what's to say she won't influence you; if indeed, your motivation is pure now."

"Ma'am my position is clear. I admit that I will enjoy the presence of one of my siblings, but only if that soldier's perspective is firmly in line with Manticore's objectives. 452 will be re-indoctrinated, of that you have my word."

Renfro gave her own feral smile: "Good, then let's discuss how we can proceed."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With a thud and a crash, Max had been deposited back into her cell. With a supreme effort, she took stock of her surroundings, the training from Max's youth unwilling to let her sink back to the floor until she had at least made a cursory sweep of the room. As far as she could tell, she was alone.

Max had just been carried to her cell after the solitary confinement, starvation regiment that forced her to repeat her designation. She couldn't forget the triumph in Renfro's eyes as she'd asked again: "Repeat your designation." Only to have Max state in a steady voice: "X452…Ma'am."

Renfro had won this victory, but Max knew the triumph was empty. Laying on the cold cement floor, Max heard Lydecker's voice echo from across the decade: "A leader is someone who inspires fear, action, and respect. Your followers might not like you, but they know you'll do what is necessary for the good of the mission." Somewhere in those words Max was able to interpret the difference between Renfro and the type of leader Lydecker had expected them to be.

Lydecker expected them to do what was necessary, whatever that may entail, but he didn't expect them to enjoy causing pain, or receive pleasure from it. In this way, your unit would know when the order came for action, they were necessary – that they weren't personal.

That had been Renfro's mistake. As Max had managed to stand before her, she had seen the woman's eyes glint with enjoyment; she liked watching Max's indoctrination process, couldn't wait for the next drop of blood to be spilled. Renfro wasn't a leader, she was an animal who had found a job that indulged her bloodthirsty desires: Max could cling to that and remember why Manticore was hell, run by its very own demon. It would never have her loyalty.

After this short reflection, Max attempted to move; she knew the medical team would be in soon to hook her starving body up to an IV drip. She didn't want them to touch her more than was necessary. As the small gust of air was forced from her lungs at the pain of moving, Max realized two things. One, how incredibly weak she was at the moment, and two, how another individual was indeed within her cell. Max recognized instantaneous that the person must be behind her and another X series; even in her state, it was the only explanation for not sensing them during her survey.

"Don't!" came the command, the voice was distinctly female. "You're too weak and wouldn't be able to defend yourself if I wanted to kick your ass."

As arms came around Max with the intention of helping her move, she heard, "Lucky for you I don't." There was a slight smile behind the voice, and as Max was finally lowered to the cot she was able to glance at the familiar face.

"Brin!"

The smile made its way to the surface. "Hello sis. You're a little worse for the wear."

"I've been better," groaned Max, but looking at her sister said, "but then, I've also been worse."

The response was a mantra that the X5 family had developed early on in their training. It signified that one was weak, but not broken. The group of child-soldiers had learned the distinction at an early age.

"That's good, I wouldn't want to think you'd gotten soft in your old age…. Here, hold out your arms, I need to administer the IV."

"You mean they're not going to send in a medical team, to prod me and probe me so they can add those test results to my file?" Max's response wasn't just a question. It had been said in her usual sarcastic tone, but it contained her bitterness and anger, as well as a bit of hope that she could receive a reprieve in the form of her sister.

Brin's response was soft and measured: "They're not monsters Max. They're just trying to do what is necessary for you to be at home."

"I see." Two words, but they both knew the meaning of them; Max considered Brin to be compromised, a member of Manticore, and, therefore, not to be trusted.

"Oh Maxie!" Brin breathed. "Don't you remember anything from the past three years? Is it really all gone?"

Cautiously, Max looked at her sister. "Maybe, no big deal though. I remember this place, our life as child soldiers, our escape."

"Max, don't you remember, you've been back at Manticore for the past three years! You came back of your own free will after performing a stint as a thief in L.A. Your clan family had been massacred, food was in short supply, and you felt you had no direction. Don't you remember that?"

A certain part of Brin's speech did register in Max's memory. She remembered leaving LA, sick of the life there and worried Manticore would catch up with her. She did remember the feelings of displacement and loss and one brief glimpse of her despair when she learned of what happened to her clan family.

"I don't remember coming back here." It was the truest statement Max could make, without giving away her position.

"Don't you remember bringing me back? I had been sick, dying, you brought me back to Manticore. You gave me my family back!"

Again, Max felt an eerie sense of déjà vu; but she didn't actually recall what had gone down. Just a quick flash of Brin's sick face.

"Then how did I lose my memory?" Max was totally alert now, closely watching her sister's response, hoping to glean the truth from her involuntary movements.

"You were on assignment, trying to find our siblings. Apparently, you found Zack, and were attempting to infiltrate his life to bring him back here. Unfortunately, Coronel Lydecker, who has been in trouble with the committee, recently went rogue. Using the guise of an officer of Manticore he abducted you and brought you to a motel in sector eight; I almost got to you in time…., but before I could get there he escaped with you. We're not sure what happened after that; we're not sure if Lydecker was already in contact with Zack, or if the two of them hooked up once he incapacitated you, but the next thing we know is that you've joined Zack, Syl, Krit, and Lydecker on an attack on Manticore. You destroyed the genetics lab."

Max let out a tiny gasp. "We attacked Manticore?! What sort of weird death-wish was that?"

Brin chuckled. "I don't know little sis, but seriously, it was nearly the end of you. You took a stray bullet to the heart, from an X7 I think. You almost died, but apparently Zack felt such guilt about leading you into that mess he killed himself so you could have his heart."

Yes, that rang a bell. Max could remember Renfro's taunting comments: "He must have loved you very much…" The attack itself was gone from Max's mind, but bits of the surgery and recovery remained; her experiences afterward retained the fuzzy quality that one could expect after waking from intensive surgery. Yet…

"It still doesn't make sense Brin, why would Lydecker want to attack the genetics lab, and what could he have done to me to make me forget the past three years?"

Brin sought out Max's eyes before replying: "We suspect you yourself are responsible for your memory loss; a way to protect Manticore's secrets against Lydecker. But Max, Lydecker's motivations we aren't sure of, all we know…" Brin stopped as if too emotional to continue. When she began again, it was with the control one expected from an X5: "We had just recaptured Tinga, she was coming home to us, going through the indoctrination process, and… Max, he killed her. He killed Tinga." There was no doubting the undercurrent of distress in Brin's voice; Brin and Tinga had been especially close when they were young. Her death when a reunion had been so close at hand would create this type of feeling.

Max didn't know how much of what Brin had said was true, but as she reached for her hand, Max knew she wanted to comfort her sister; protect her from what must have been a very lonely loss with no one to share it with.

They sat there for quite a while, hands clasped, sharing the loss of Zack and Tinga between them. No matter what side they were on, no matter who had pulled the trigger, they would mourn for their lost brother and sister.

After a while Max voiced her lingering question: "How do you know it was Lydecker?"

"Dr. Renfro informed me."

At that Max couldn't hold her a snort: "That woman is a sadistic bitch Brin; I don't trust her as far as she could throw me. And I know she hates me; I'm not sure why, but I know she does."

A grim smile reached Brin's face. It had been decided between Renfro and her to sell Max on this twisted combination of fact and fiction; knowing Max's fractured memory would help to support the illusion. The reliance on this info would help keep Max in line if she ever encountered those who had known during those three years. However, it was Renfro who insisted on mentioning Brin's illness and Zack's sacrifice – though in truth, Brin would rather have left it alone. So when Max hit upon an undeniable fact, Brin knew it was in keeping with her "as much truth as possible" technique to reply:

"Yeah she is. And yeah she hates you. You've never been very good at discipline Maxie. But…" and here Brin's voice took on the Manticore induced harshness, "she's our commanding officer. We are bound to obey her." And finally, after allowing her voice to take on a cadence it rarely had reason to assume any more, Brin pleaded with Max: "Please don't instigate her Maxie, I don't want to lose you like them. I'm lonely here." It was probably the truest thing Brin had said.

Looking at her sister, Max responded honestly. "I could never follow her, but for you and our brothers and sisters, I'll do my best."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ahhhh….." Max let out a roar as she tossed the X5 over her shoulder and onto his back. This time he didn't get up. As she leered over him, Max cracked: "Who's the broken toy soldier now?!" The comment was as much for the surrounding crowd as for the prostrated figure.

In the two months that had passed since Max had decided to play nice, she had had the type of epiphany about Manticore that often occurs to mountain climbers at the highest of altitudes: life grows in the harshest, and in Manticore's case, the most sterile of environments. Manticore was many things; it was dark, cold, and pitiless. But it certainly wasn't dead. Especially since the attack on the genetics lab, the corridors of Manticore were filled with X5s, scientists, assisting personal, X6s, and even a few X7s. And despite Manticore's best efforts, the inhabitants still needed to eat, sleep, and speak. They were, after all, still human – well sort of.

Max had also realized fairly soon after joining the less "scientific" members of the community, that the halls of Manticore weren't all that different from the tough city streets that she had lived on as a child. The rules were: keep your head down, don't show any fear, and for Christ's sake don't draw attention to yourself from the wrong crowd.

Unfortunately for Max, that latter wasn't an option. The wrong crowd was the X series who, as Max learned, inhabited the top circles in a hierarchal pecking order. Right at the top, were the X5's; those from the "class" after Max's. Although the soldiers maintained their dignified, disinterested masks in front of command, as soon as they were left alone their hatred of the '09 escapees became apparent. Max wasn't sure if it were the brain-washing, they're misplaced sense of pride, or a deeply buried envy, but each of the X5s Max encountered seemed determined let her know how pathetic and weak she was. No wonder Brin had been lonely.

Max's daily beat downs by the X5 brigade had begun three weeks ago. Up until that time she had been subjected to all of Manticore's intensive forms of mental indoctrination. Renfro was resolved to make Max endure the most rigorous psyops training ever inflicted on an X series; she meant to push Max until the only thoughts running through her lovely head were Manticore induced ones; in short, pushing her until just until her mind broke.

In these sessions, Max found an ally in what she had always thought to be her greatest weakness, her seizures. Due to her condition, Max could only endure so many hours of brainwashing before psyops was forced to administer treatment. In fact, as the session progressed they had to become shorter in duration due to Max's increased vulnerability. It wasn't long before Max began to welcome the first signs of tremors that would eventually make the voices inside her head stop. And Manticore, although it had developed a fast acting shot of serotonin, had yet to find a way to cure the deficiency.

In fact, Max had more reason to praise her condition than she suspected. Soon after her reunion with Brin, Manticore's scientists had determined that Max's genetic anomaly had nothing to do with her breeding capacities. The genetic mutation, however, still continued to interest Renfro since its origins might help in finding a cure for the genetic degeneration that plagued the X series. It made sense that if Max's basic genetic code was more susceptible to degeneration, after all the X6s were mostly stable and 452's clone died, than the difference between Max's DNA sequence and those of her clones had to be link that would solve the problem. Nevertheless, Renfro found she didn't have the financial funding to make an extended case study of 452. The coffers of Manticore were quickly empting and Renfro needed a fix to her X series shortage quickly and cheaply.

The solution Renfro had come up with was to establish a new Manticore breeding program. One that would allow her to quietly obtain additional funding as "potential" X-series soldier were sold to outside parties, all without reinstating the lengthy fertility process usually employed. Those children of the Xseries that showed the greatest potential would be kept and displayed to the counsel; those that seemed "flawed" would, unbeknownst to the committee, be sold to the highest bidders. Sure the plan was risky, but Renfro didn't need to keep Manticore running forever, just for the next year and a half, maybe two years while things were completed. However, in the meantime, it would be helpful if she could solve the pesky "breeding" problem before outside management stepped in.

It is with Max's genetic anomaly in mind that Renfro added her to the short list of female X5s who could be spared from their duties long enough to give birth to X series children. Sure, previous experiments of this kind had failed in the past, but the X5 known as Tinga had proved that the intended outcome was possible. In an effort control the experiment, some of the females would be inseminated, others would be forced to procreate in the traditional manner – and a range of Xseries and ordinary DNA sperm donors would be employed. Small numbers of X5s andX6s would be used on a five month rotational basis.

Fortunately for Max, her physical examination revealed the Red implant firmly embedded in her brain. The devise was beginning to corrode and the result was more intensive seizures. It was only after several urgent reports from the medical staff that Renfro finally approved the removal surgery. In the meantime, another X5 would have to take 452's place in the program.

Max, however, knew nothing about the "for rent" sign that Manticore saw on her womb. All she knew was that the psyops sessions were being postponed, she had one hell of a headache, and despite all their efforts Max wasn't as totally "Manticore" yet.

In addition to the abbreviated sessions caused by the seizures, Max's body had found another way of resisting the invasive indoctrination process.

After one particularly grueling session, Max found herself back in her cell unable to do anything but respond to sensory data. She could determine touch, sight, and sound – but her ability to internally process that information and relate it to previous experiences or thoughts was gone. It was if Manticore had reached inside her brain, and destroy the inner most sanctuary of the human mind.

Of course, at the time, Max had been unable to make that association. She simply knew she felt wrong somehow and her breath rate increased as she began to panic. She tried to reach for the inner mantra that she begun to repeat when things got particularly rough, but found she couldn't remember the words. Just as she began to sink down on her bunk in defeat, 452 noticed a slight movement out of the corner of her eyes.

Walking toward her, in a gray-Manticore issued sleep-gown, was a girl with a shaved head. Although her outline was slightly blurred, her face felt familiar. "Is that me as a little girl?" Max wondered. But without knowing how, she suddenly knew that it wasn't. As if in confirmation to her thought, the girl shook her head.

Never breaking eye-contact with 452, the soldier girl said: "You're name is Max."

That was it! Max's mantra.

"My name is Max," Max repeated out loud, needing to hear the words. Staring at the girl, Max finally continued, "And you, you're Eva."

With a grim smile barely touching her lips, the girl nodded. "Yes, and you know why I'm here. It's getting bad Max; they're not going to stop. But you promised him you'd fight them."

Promised? Who had she promised? Max didn't know for sure, but that didn't matter.

"I know," Max replied.

"Then you know why I'm here."

It wasn't a question, but Max still felt compelled to answer. "You're here because you represent everything I can't afford to forget about Manticore; every reason why I hate them. You're death…." Max stopped, but she knew the rest. "But I can't leave Brin, she might have lied – I know… I think, she lied – but she's all the family I have left. I'll stay for her, Manticore can have my body, but…"

Watching her steadily, Eva didn't attempt to interrupt. "…they can't have my mind."

"Then you need to come with me, we need to hide, go deep. You were always the best at escape and evade."

"Where are we going?" asked Max, suddenly delighted at the turn her subconscious had taken.

"Disneyland," replied Eva. Max snorted in amusement; Eva wouldn't have known about Disneyland, but it was exactly the type comment she would have made back in their Manticore days.

Although she had never considered it before, Max's ball-busting attitude was exactly like Eva's had been. As children, Eva had been the sarcastic, sassy one. It wasn't until after she had died, when Max was on the outside, that she assumed the cocky swagger and arrogant cadence to her voice that so often led to trouble. Realizing it consciously for the first time, Max knew her attitude was a tribute to her sister; a way to keep a small piece of Eva living inside her as she made her way in the world.

Rolling her eyes, Eva replied again, "To your safe place Max; to the memories and images you haven't erased. Don't attempt to qualify them or catch them, just let go."

Leaning back on her small bed, Max closed her eyes and let herself wonder down a long, narrow corridor, through a steel-plated door, and into a window filled room that smelled heavenly. "Mmmmm.." thought Max, "I hope I ate every bit of what that was."

Every night, Max would go to her special place. Images, smells, feelings would slide through her mind. The clink of glasses, a coffee cup, a burst of a woman's laughter, the smell of a certain man's unique scent.

And although 452 would snap to attention as readily as those around her; although she responded to every command issued to her – deep inside her, even during the worst of times, 452 would hear the echoing cry: "I am Max."

XXXXXXXXX

Eyeing the crowded gathered around the fight, Max taunted once more: "Is that it? Or does anyone else want to take a crack at an '09er. I'd be happy to oblige."

At first no one in the crowd responded, this was the first time since beginning the physical part of her training that Max had allowed the mask of the perfectly brain-washed Manticore soldier to slide. Up until that point, Max had maintained a neutral expression every time someone slammed up against in the halls, berated her over her attack plans, or let a gibe about her escaped brothers and sisters slide into their conversation.

Partly, Max had endured it because she didn't want an officer her to see her display of attitude and contact Renfro, but part of her was also ashamed of the '09ers, as they were called, actions. Although a section of Max's mind still saw Manticore as evil; her conscious brain acknowledged it as home, and in leaving her siblings and her had abandoned their mission and each other.

It didn't help her confidence either that Max's abilities seemed far behind the other X5s. The group sessions that Max attended were primarily refresher courses to those who had been on assignment. As such, they often skimmed over material that Max was unfamiliar with. She found she needed to spend her precious down-time reviewing fight strategies. The extra "homework" barely helped, Max's plans were also dissected and dismissed quickly. The failures provided extra fodder for the X5s to draw fresh material from; weakness was never respected.

Brin did her best to encourage her, in her cool, militaristic way. But nothing really helped; Max had always hated the purely theoretic drills of Manticore's training.

But now, they were on her turf. Hand to hand combat training was mandatory for all of the X5s, each taking turns to step into the ring to reestablish the pecking order. When her time had come up, she could see the gleam that reached many of their eyes, they couldn't wait for one of their own, X701, to take her down.

Catching Brin's eye, Max managed to keep her calm as they assumed their stances. But unfortunately for him, X701 was a jabberer. "Looks like one of Lydecker's flunkies is ready to get her ass beat." As Max had realized since being back at Manticore – the two groups of X5s had been born two years apart. While the first group, Max's, had been under the sole care of Lydecker, the current group had had a variety of lead instructors. Apparently, this was seen as a form of preferential treat, and since Lydecker's defection had become common knowledge, it was one more reason to despise the departed soldiers.

The shot at Lydecker didn't particularly bother Max as she rolled her shoulders to loosen them up. 701 continued: "Hmmm… I'd better be careful, wouldn't want Manticore's broken toy soldier to have to go back to the medical wing." Max's seizures had also become a source of ridicule.

"I don't think we have any more spare body parts of your siblings lying around to fix you up with."

Snap! That did it; Max's tolerance level had been breached and she was about to show this punk-ass X5 what exactly Lydecker's X5s could do. Not allowing the expression on her face to alter, Max lowered her left shoulder slightly. During the previous battles, Max had noticed how perfectly text-book these X5s fought. They saw a slight limp, they went for the knees; they saw an upper-kick, they went into a forward lung movement. No imagination. Inadvertently, Lydecker's words came into her mind: "Just as important in a fight is controlling the psychological reactions of your opponent."

It wasn't exactly the most brilliant fighting strategy Max had ever had, but somehow she sensed it would be enough. As expected, as soon as the fight commenced X701 had lunged for the slightly off-kilter left flank. Max let him land a few punches, gain in his confidence, before quickly raising her left side and using it as an anchor to fling him off balance, using a kick to the back to send him crashing forward. That was enough to check his cocky grin.

Quickly Max followed up with another kick, this one to the gut, enjoying the undignified staggering it forced him to do. When 701 approached her again, she knew he had summed her up as a leg-intensive fighter and quickly moved to separate the distance between them so she wouldn't be able to gain momentum. That was fine with Max. As 701 attempted to punch her in the chest, Max moved slightly to the side, allowing his upper arm to slide between the side of her body and her arm. As his momentum carried him forward, Max used the top of her scalp to quickly snap forward and head-butt him. A satisfying crack could be heard as his nose broke. Using the trapped arm as leverage, Max flung his body around hers, where it met with a backwards kick that knocked the air out of his lungs.

Completing the beat-down, Max then flung his body over her shoulder, only to proclaim "Who's the broken toy soldier now?"


	6. Chapter 6

Max's quick victory and sudden attitude reversal were met with silence, as was her challenge.

"I guess you prefer beating down the more brain-washed X5 variety."

Max notice a few eye flickering amongst X5s, apparently they all hadn't been as happy with the way she had been treated. Finally another male X5 came forward.

"I'll take her on; my team spent six months in psyops after those shits took off; wouldn't mind a little pay-back." The man who stepped forward was light haired, tall, muscular: with the typical, beautiful Grecian profile of the male-X5s.

"Yeah, so sorry about that, do you want me to send a written apology?" Max quipped, as she resumed her fight stance.

As they began to spar, Max continued with her banter; it was her nearly fail proof method of throwing off an opponent: "Maybe I could say something like this, Dear second-gen X5's, sorry I couldn't stay around and kick your ass, but I had to jet. Please except my sincerest apologies."

The whirl of limbs had continued through the greater part of Max's commentary. However, just has she began to finish, she was able to flip X870 on his back and apply her boot to his larynx.

He hesitated a minute before giving the sign of surrender, and Max had applied slightly more pressure before she let off. He couldn't contain his slight cough as he got to his feet, a murderous glint in his eyes.

Max didn't respond, she simply lifted her eyebrows slightly and turned her gaze to the crowd, giving them the chance to issue a third challenger. The crowd of X5s were silent, a sense of indecision seemed to hang over them as they contemplated her.

Finally, a member of the crowd stepped forward. X624. Max recognized him from her classroom training. He was the CO of their group, their Zack.

Physically the two men couldn't have been more different, at least according to Manticore standards. X624 was taller and leaner than Zack had been. He had dark glossy hair and light blue eyes, a less defined jaw bone, and a face that would have fit in at any well-to-do company barbecue. But something about their attitude, the way they held themselves with complete control and confidence made Max think of Zack every time she was in the vicinity of 624.

As Zack would, 624 took charge of the situation: "Good work 452; that will be all for now. Next pair."

The tension immediately dissipated as the X5's returned to their training exercise. Max wasn't sure if she were relieved or disappointed, her body still coiled with suppressed energy as she watched the next set of fights. Part of her wanted to kick each and everyone of their blue-bred butts; she wanted to defend the '09ers honor.

Sometime between the sixth and seventh fight, X624 came to stand beside Max. Calmly and quietly, he stated: "Quite a display of attitude 452, not exactly the psychological profile command was hoping to inspire in you."

Max didn't flinch, didn't bother to remove her eyes from the fight happening in front of them: "Guess not, better report I need another attitude adjustment."

"I could, and probably should." When Max didn't ask for further clarification, he continued. "But, a mindless shell isn't exactly my idea of a good soldier. We have plenty of X6s for that…." 624 noticed the small tug of her lips before continuing. "but be assured X452, we'll all be watching you closely to make sure your loyalties are with the right people."

"And which people would those be," Max asked, turning to look him squarely in the eyes. She wanted to hear him say that they followed Renfro, that the chain of command was god.

"To your squadron and your country," he replied with a hard look.

Max knew exactly what he hadn't said. He hadn't said her immediate higher-ups; to their "handlers"; he had said that their loyalty was to one another and the country under which they fought. She could live with that.

Max looked him straight in the eyes and nodded, her implicit consent. He seemed to understand her agreement, and turned his eyes back front, satisfied for the moment.

"But lets get one thing straight," Max added. "The '09ers, the deserters as you guys call them, they were my squadron, my family. They might be screwed up, but I'm the only one who gets to say that. Got it?!"

X624 considered her statement. "Their loyalties aren't the same as ours."

"No, but their loyalties aren't to the enemy either. Zack died for me, gave me his heart. He might have forgotten his country, but he didn't forget his team. If that's still there, I have to believe that they can be brought around. I know they can."

"The genetics lab?"

"There were four of us right? Not exactly enough to bring down an entire operation, only enough to get Manticore to stop looking for them. To leave them to themselves." Max had considered why they had attacked the lab, long and hard. This seemed like the only logical explanation.

X624 took a moment to think about the subtext of this conversation, particularly 452's use of "them" instead of "us." Making a decision, he faced Max: "Fair enough."

And that was all that was said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Things had changed after that.

Max had been assigned to a specific team, alpha team, under X624. Although no one gave her words of welcome, no one attempted to purposely bait her either. Instead, they seemed hell-bent on making her the best soldier possible, the best teammate. And although they pushed her to her physical limitations, they also pushed themselves along with her.

Extreme combat training has a way of binding the most motley of crews, but it wasn't until a particular game of escape and evade that Max felt as if she had truly been accepted into the fold.

The mission had been for as many soldiers as possible to make it to specific coordinates. It was a code red, meaning that the mission superseded the need for the team members to help one another: the only thing that mattered was the designation.

Alpha team was being guarded by a platoon of regular soldiers. Beta team was in the surrounding trees, protecting the coordinates and prepared to do what was necessary to keep from Alpha team from gaining its objective. Max watched as Brin and 624 worked together to maneuver their binds, finally breaking the links holding together 624's handcuffs. Once free, he was able to quickly help Brin do the same. Brin turned her attention to freeing the other teammates, while 624 jimmied the locks to their cages and took out the guards. Now released, the team members looked to 624 who signaled for them to split up and make for the rendezvous point.

They scattered quickly.

Max felt like she was flying over the ground; she was more free than she had been in months, in forever. She had always loved this particular game. The commanders weren't breathing down your neck, there wasn't a stringent set of rules to follow. No, for right now Max wasn't under some highly classified military group; she was just Max. So she ducked and ran and hid. When she came heard a contingent of the Beta group nearby, rather than run, she snuck closer, determined to hear what their plan was.

"We need to cover the river, X739 take the trail north, two of us will position ourselves in the entrance to the dell."

"Sir, what about 452, when should we activate the tracking signal."

"Already started. Renfro wants to follow her movements on the monitors so we can see if she makes for the perimeter or the rendezvous point. Both myself and her team leader are watching her closely and intend to bring her in before midnight. Now break."

So they were tracking her, were they.

Well Max was gonna be damn if they brought her in early before the real fun began. Edging her way back to the main terminal, Max noticed the regular soldiers were barely going through the motions of a search mission, probably too intimidated by the X5s to intervene. She snuck into the hospital wing and pulled a transmission locator from the stock of supplies. Most soldiers would have headed to the technology center, but Max knew that this type of equipment would be available here too, ready in case prisoners of war were brought in to see if their body held any hidden tracking systems.

Being in the medical wing also gave Max the advantage of having scalpels close at hand. Using the device, Max found what she was looking for; the signal coming from her left thigh. Striping her pants quickly, Max dabbed her thigh with alcohol before beginning to cut.

XXXXXXXX

"Dammit!" exclaimed the Beta leader. They had tracked the signal to a clearing, only to find the transmitter tied to a branch high up in the trees. "Should have known this was a game she'd be good at, no doubt headed to join the rest of her traitorous brothers and sisters. Get me a signal to command!"

XXXXXXXXX

Max was standing before the perimeter gates, memories of the '09 escape flooding before her eyes. She remembered the cold snow, Jondy's hand tugging her away from Zack's prone body, she remembered the sound of the tazers as they zapped him.

She hadn't meant to end up here, but the straight avenue of treeless forest was a good place to race to the rendezvous point. Now that she was standing here though, Max wasn't sure if she hadn't intended to come for a different purpose. Beyond that fence lay her siblings, the rest of her family. Beyond the barrier lay a great wilderness of the unknown, of places and faces she couldn't image within Manticore's walls.

Unbidden, images that usually kept her company at night had risen from Max's mind. She smelled delicious dinners, dirty streets. She heard the murmur made by crowds moving along crowed lanes, she felt a different, saltier wind touch her face. She smelled him.

However, just as she tensed her muscles in preparation for a jump into the mysterious unknown, the image of Brin's face came to her mind and her words _"I'm lonely here."_ Immediately, Max paused. How could she leave her? Leave her to deal with the remarks and abuse that would surely come with Max's escape. Not to mention her teammates.

It wasn't that Max felt the same way about her new team as she did about her siblings, but over the last few weeks they had begun to grow on her. She respected 624, even if she didn't always agree with him. She knew he had protected her for the backlash that would surely of been directed at her when news of Renfro's "breeding program" had begun to surface. He, and her teammates, had stuck their necks out, covering for her when others began to realize her reindoctrination hadn't accomplished all it was meant to.

No, Max realized, she couldn't do this to them; for better or worse she needed to stay here, at least for now. Silently, she turned her back on freedom and headed for the rendezvous point.

XXXXXXXX

From the forest, the eyes of X624 watched her go. He slowly relaxed his muscles which had been prepared to spring if she jumped the fence. He was pleased that he had waited and watched silently as she came to her decision.

Unlike many of their handlers, 624 realized just how much stronger the bonds of responsibility were than those of a prison. It was the same feeling that kept many of them coming back after solo missions, when they could easily have disappeared. For that reason, he would keep tonight's little escapade from the chain of command's ears. It was between him and Max.

Unable to hold back a full smile, X624 dashed after her.

XXXXXXX

When Max had showed up at the coordinates, safe and sound and missing her tracking system, the commanders had launched into her, berating her for overriding her mission outlines and endangering expensive equipment.

However, the members of her team, and even those of Beta, looked on her new found respect. Removing a chunk of one's own flesh and still being able to reach the destination point was no small accomplishment, and they respected her for her strength. But more than that, they understood how easily she could have used the confusion to escape. By staying she had passed her initiation ceremony.

Brin had snuck into Max's cell that night and slept in her bunk with her; a sign of her happiness that her sister was officially better.

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**Fogle Towers...**

The dark streets and bright lights of Seattle's high-rise district stood majestically outside Logan's window. Unseeingly, he stared out at the view, letting his mind stay suspended on a sea of nothingness as he let the waves of pain wash over him and then recede.

The lights in his apartment were off, and he was alone.

It was one of his moment of inertia, when his fixed purpose waned and he needed to remain still until the next tide of energy waxed in.

He had tried to hack into Manticore surveillance today, him and Krit. But to their dismay, the server had either become extraordinarily complex, or the monitor system was simply shut off. Lydecker had thought the latter, thinking that Renfro wouldn't have the money to update the system and would want to keep outsiders from being able to peek in.

The lack of surveillance would make Manticore easier to penetrate once they were finally ready to act, but now during recon, it made it impossible for them to get a sense of where Zack was being held. A problem that was sure to end in another delay.

Logan would have felt furious if he had felt anything at all, but as he had come to realize, his emotional range had been limited to these two polarized states: anger or apathy.

Logan had once told Max that he wasn't interested in finding out why bad things happened, he just knew that they did. He still wasn't interested in why, although he was now fairly sure that there was someone out there getting sadistic pleasure out of it all.

No, Logan was sure, bad things happened whenever they would cause the most pain to as many people as possible. So his legs had been taken away when he found Max; so his ability to walk had been restored with the sole intention of having removed; so Max and him had found one another the moment before they were destined to lose each other. Sadistic pleasure.

Those that fought the hardest were subject to the most pain.

The proof of this last statement was Max; Max who had died at the steps of her personal hell, when she, more than anyone else Logan had ever met, deserved to be happy.

The peak of the wave rolled over him, and then rolled back to sea.

Two days ago, Logan had performed his first non-Manticore Eyes Only broadcast since Max's death. Bling had insisted on it, reminding Logan of those informants who risked their lives to bring their stories to him. He reminded Logan of all the times Max had risked her life for his stories, and of all the times Logan had risked his own. He needed to continue; if for no other reason, then to honor Max.

It had only been a small story, a group of local doctors using thinned out blood during surgery, but it had felt good. Well not good, but familiar and numbing. Logan was reminded of all the times he had used work as a panacea to alleviate the pain of past failures. He thought briefly that he could use it again, but ultimately the pain had proved too powerful and here he was again, drowning.

It was only dimly that he heard his doorbell ring. He thought he wasn't going to answer it, but for some reason felt curious about who could possibly be buzzing at 11:00 on a Saturday night.

Opening his door he saw Original Cindy leaning against the doorframe, subdued; the sight was both painful and poignant. She seemed to feel the same way about seeing him.

"Hey boo," she said gently. "Wondering if you wouldn't mind taking a stroll down memory lane." She held up a handle of some cheap rum.

The idea of riding the wave of loneliness with someone else who missed her nearly as much as him was strangely appealing to Logan.

Stepping aside to let her in, Logan mentioned: "Think I can do better than that," gesturing to her bottle.

They ended up drinking the rest of his pre-pulse whiskey and half of OC's rum. The conversation was painful, but oddly satisfying. With Max gone, neither felt like putting up the pretense of secrecy. Logan nonchalantly mentioned his secret identity, and told Cindy of Max's mysterious "errands" she had run for him. Original Cindy, in turn, had provided a great deal of the running commentary Max had given during the same time frames.

Provided with the context, Max's weeklong rant about men who did nothing but obsess over their life's "mission" was incredibly amusing.

Both found Max more amazing in panorama than they had from their individual focal points. It was just hard to believe she was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore**

Two weeks after the fateful game of escape and evade, Max was in weapons training with her team. 624 was insisting on teaching Max how to use the latest assault rifles when a shadow at the door had made him pause.

"Well well, look what the cat dragged in." Smiling he headed over to the figure at the door, another X5 by the looks of him.

"Finally decided to wrap up the mission in Dubai and grace us with your presence," 624 asked, obviously on familiar terms with this lolly gagging teammate.

"You know, things to do, people to see," the X5 answered his CO.

As the X5 entered the room, Max felt a slip of memory flash before her eyes.

"Ben!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to the surprised X5, grabbing his forearms in excitement. Max didn't know how she knew what Ben looked like, but she knew that this stranger definitely looked like him.

Glancing down at the unfamiliar face, the X5 smoothly replied: "Sure sweetheart, I'm anyone you want me to be."

No, thought Max, this wasn't Ben. She wasn't sure how she knew for certain, but something about his eye-color and the shape of his brow was different from her memory. Similar but different.

As she let go of his arms, Max noticed the frown on 624's face and heard Brin come up to her.

"His designation is 494 Maxie."

"Twin?"

"Biological siblings I believe. Same embryonic donor."

Max nodded and turned away.

"Hey," stepped up a visibly perturbed 624, "what am I missing here?"

It was Brin who answered: "One of our squadron, designation 493, resembles 494. He was one of the '09 escapees. They" indicating Max, "were close."

"Seems like my 'brother' had excellent taste" smiled 494, with a wink at Max.

"How the hell would Max know what he looked like now?" ask 624, his eyes flashing. He hadn't seen Max react with such emotion to anything or anyone before and he found the experience, unnerving. Her devotion to her siblings apparent.

Looking daggers at him, Brin answered: "She caught up with him on a mission, but she doesn't _remember_ it totally." She had added slightly more emphasis to the word remember as a warning for 624 to stop his questioning.

Reluctantly, he did. Turning back to 494, he began debriefing him on recent events, but in his multi-tasking brain kept turning over the unusual designation X734 had given 452: Maxie.

XXXXXXXXXXX

That night Max found she had more trouble than usual getting to her safe place. The door always seemed slightly out of reach, and Eva wasn't responding to her calls. As she kept walking, Max began to hear a voice speaking to her.

_"Don't let them take me. You know what they'll do to me…"_

_"You wouldn't do that to your own brother, would you Maxie?"_

_"You're a wolf in sheep's clothing."_

Max didn't want to see the face behind the voice. She knew it would be uncanny, a face resembling the familiar but embodying the unnatural. There was madness in the voice.

Finally reaching the doorway, Max stepped through, only to come face to face with a dead Ben, the real Ben. She was looking down at him, his neck was snapped, from the way she was holding him she could have been the one to do it.

Shock pumping through her system, Max started up from her daydream, sitting straight up in bed.

Standing just in front of her bunk was an image of the child Ben, with his shaved head and a sweet expression.

"Hi Maxie."

"Ben…I'm so sorry Ben."

"Sorry for what Max?" he seemed confused, "you didn't do anything, neither did I. They did."

"Did what Ben?"

"Everything Max. They made us, trained us, ruined us. I want to know why Max. I want to know the end of the story. You have to find it for me."

"Find what?" Max asked

But Ben didn't answer. And Max already knew: she wanted answers. She needed to know everything and anything she could about Manticore, about the monsters in the basement. Knowledge was power, and as children they had kept that from them. She didn't know how exactly, but she knew that Ben had been destroyed by that.

So here he was. A memory for a mind that couldn't remember, insisting that she learn what she could about her origins, their origins.

What she would do with the information, Max had no idea. Nevertheless, she went to her cell door, attempting to figure out a way to sneak out and explore the compound. She wasn't sure how, but Max was determined to learn everything there was to know about Manticore.

**Thank you for the reviews; this is my first story, so I hope this meets the standards.**


	7. Chapter 7

**So I do have a plan for drawing the these two storylines together, and much of that is already written. Hopefully those of you who are reading won't mind a little more set up - this enstallment does take things a bit closer.**

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore, a few weeks later…**

Life in Manticore settled into a tolerable, if mundane, routine for Max. During the day she trained with her team engaging in all types of combat; at night she prowled the corridors of Manticore looking to find answers for forgotten questions. A few hours before sun up she'd sneak back to her bunk and spend an hour or two in her safe place, usually floating amid the now familiar images, smells, and sounds that greeted her. The weight of unease never lifted from Max's gut, but slowly the feeling of loneliness began to dissipate.

Today was one of the more bearable ones. Max had been assigned to a team of six soldiers from her unit who were engaged to go on a deep-ops mission in France; her first real mission in as long as she could remember. They were required to invade a terrorist ring where one of the leaders was supposedly an enemy of the country. Termination was required.

Plans had taken a few hours to develop, but now things were taking a decidedly less "professional" turn.

"I'm just saying, if we could swing down to the Bordeaux region and pick up a few bottles of wine, we could make a handsome trade and no one would be the wiser," coaxed Alec, the X5 also known as 494.

When Troy, or X624, refused to answer, but continued to glare at him with immovable firmness, Alec turned his appeal to Max.

"Come on Maxie, don't you agree with me? Wouldn't you like to take a stroll through the romantic regions of southern France?" Alec pleaded, an annoyingly insinuating tone to his voice.

Since meeting, Alec and Max had forged a barb-filled, teasing relationship with one another. His smug charm often meeting its match in her wry sarcasm. Short exchanges had led to long-term jokes; one of which was this annoying implication that Troy would defer to Max's preferences, as if the stern Commanding Officer had a puppy-dog crush on her. It was one weapon in Alec's arsenal that tended to get a rise out of Max when other taunts failed.

Letting this particular incident slide, Max countered, "Why would I want to do that when I have the lovely gray-halls of Manticore to vacation in?"

Both Troy and Alec smirked.

Despite his exasperating yapping, Max knew that Alec's comments weren't meant to wound. Something about their unique connection to Ben had created this sibling-like relationship, and prickly though it maybe, Max knew when she wasn't around Alec was one of her staunchest defenders.

Nevertheless, more often than not, Max wanted to give her little 'brother' a swift kick in the ass.

"All I'm saying is that if Manticore wants to give us an all-expense paid vacation to France we should take them up on the opportunity." Alec continued.

It was Brin who intervened. "X5 494, our mission is relegated to Paris and I expect you to behave in a manner befitting your unit. Command would not be pleased with your renegade attitude."

The other members of the unit shifted uncomfortably, Biggs and Dirk openly gave Brin mutinous glares, and Troy's jaw twitched with annoyance.

Max had realized early on that there were unspoken rules within the X5 community. For one, despite the efforts of command to 'simplify' the X5s after the '09 escape, they had been unable to breed out an innate sense of superiority and loyalty that was contained within their ranks. Discipline and punishment were handled, for the most part, within their individual units rather than appealing to outsiders, who in the X5s' opinion, were weaker than themselves. Therefore, a threat to go to command was both an insulting and an aberrant method of dealing with insubordination.

Max had come to realized that whatever Brin's reindoctrination process had been, it had left her more deferential to command and oblivious to the nuances of X5 life. She seemed incapable of picking up on the X5 slang that punctuated the conversations of the X5s when "handlers" weren't present. She never called them "ordinaries" or differentiated between those who were 'party-line' and those more 'in with the Xs.' This made Brin an often unwelcome addition to most groups. It was also, quite possibly, why she was included in their current mission.

Intervening for her unpopular sister, Max interjected, "I think what _Brin_ means to say _Alec_, is that those _on high_ will be watching us a little more closely than usual and we wouldn't want to risk disciplinary action…" before he could interrupt, Max added, "my fault again, I'm afraid."

Unlike Brin, Max had no trouble picking up the lingo, slipping into Manticore dialogue as easily as she had once acquired the language of Seattle's streets. Her attitude coupled with her strength as a teammate had made Max a favorite within their group and she often acted as the conciliatory moderator between Brin and the rest of the team.

Her stress of their names combined with taking on the responsibility for the added pressure by command deflected the direction the conversation was headed down as both sides focused on reassuring her.

"It's not your fault Max," Brin argued, "they wouldn't be sending you on this mission if they didn't believe you were fully recovered."

"Besides," Alec chipped in, "I'm quite pleased for your little lapse to the dark-side; if it weren't for your screw-up we wouldn't be enjoying the current freedom from the all-knowing watchers."

The freedom Alec was referring to was the internal monitoring system which had been shut down since the genetics lab explosion. The relief from "the watchers" as they were dubbed had provided the X5's with an unprecedented amount of liberty to engage each other in their more laid-back style. It also allowed the 'transactions' Alec often engaged in to become a nearly full-scale business. On Max's part, it gave her the opportunity to explore Manticore halls at night without fear of the cameras stationed everywhere.

Giving a brief signal of thanks to Max, Troy continued to lead the discussion away from the inflammatory topic.

"Rather than focusing on what we do after the mission, what do you say we try to figure out how to achieve our objective without sacrificing our hides."

From there the talk had focused on various details of their mission. It wasn't going to be an easy one. The terrorist group was well-armed and suspicious. The fact that this particular mission required six of them was in and of itself enough to make them cautious. Nevertheless, Max found herself excited at the prospect of a mission. She was eager to leave the prison walls of Manticore behind her, at least for a little while, and spend some time with those fellow soldiers she had begun to think of as friends.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**20 minutes later…**

As the team began to break up and go their separate ways, Troy stayed behind to look over some paper work. Soon everyone had left except Max and Brin who were having a slightly strained conversation in the corner of the room.

Troy watched the exchange that was taking place between the "sisters" will hooded eyes, and after a moment's hesitation decided to use his advanced hearing to pick up on the subject of their debate. He was in charge of this mission, he rationalized, and needed to know what was going on within his team.

"All I'm saying Brin is that it wouldn't kill you to ditch some of the command rhetoric; we're a team and we should keep our family squabbles to ourselves," Max insisted.

"There you go again with your family obsession; this isn't a family Max, this is a military unit with an objective that requires sacrifice. As soon as you realized that we're not here to play siblings…" Brin didn't finish her sentence, realizing that in her heated response she had let part of her carefully crafted façade fall.

Troy was startled by the slip.

Despite Max's seemingly perfect transition into party-lines, command had requested a lot of additional surveillance to be placed on her. Troy knew that Brin was the lead soldier on that front; monitoring her and reporting Max's progress to Renfro herself. He knew this because he was also within this circle. Unlike the other X5s who simply suspected it, Troy knew for certain that Max hadn't rejoined Manticore three years ago and been kept on solo missions until her lapse; he knew that she had been living a life outside the confines of Manticore and her memory loss was a protection for those siblings that she intensely loved.

For this reason, he had been put in charge of monitoring her whereabouts and keeping close tabs on her when she was outside regular command training. In addition to the mission in France, part of X624's assignment was to watch if Max used the trip as an opportunity for escape, and to track her if she did.

At first, Troy had had no qualms about his assignment. Max was a defective soldier, an '09er who needed to be watched. However, as some of the details about Max's conversion came to light Troy found himself slightly irritated by the strategy that had been used.

He learned that it had been 734's idea to use Max's weakness for family, for human connection, to gain her submission. By itself, the strategy wasn't cruel, it would allow Max to be spared from some of the physical and psychological torture in store for her while expediting her training; however, there was something in the way that 734 mercilessly used Max's love for her, without seeming to reciprocate any of it, that didn't sit well with Troy.

He recalled two weeks earlier when Max insisted on naming everyone in their immediate unit. The idea didn't sit well with him, all his life he'd been X624 and to have a fellow soldier give him another name seemed somehow too intimate, a breach of boundaries.

Troy remembered the exchange he had with Brin, as they debated reporting this bit of information to command.

Brin's expressionless response had been: "Max's psychological make-up demands that she make a personal connection with the members of her unit. This decision to give you names, though unconventional, is a sign that Max has fully accepted her position at Manticore. Nevertheless, like her breach in military language I recommend that we keep this incident to ourselves lest command mis-interpret the signs."

If her voice had shown even the slightest bit of feeling, Troy might have persuaded that "Brin" was anxious to keep her sister from command's retribution, but it didn't.

It had annoyed him then, and it annoyed him even more lately. He hated to watch all the times Max interceded on behalf of her sister or took on extra training to be near her. He felt like she was losing a game she didn't even know she was playing.

However, at the moment it seemed Max had unintentionally scored a point. Brin's misstep was more than a small flub, it was a sign that Max had gotten to her, annoyed her. If Max was able to do that then it seemed to suggest that Brin wasn't as apathetic to her sister as he thought. Perhaps Manticore's most command-friendly daughter wasn't as party-line as she considered herself to be.

The thought made him internally smile, Max had a tendency to get to a lot of people.

Thinking back, Troy remembered how quickly his own unease about the names had dissipated. Their unit was supposed to be debriefing on arms traders, but instead they were participating in their own naming process.

Alec's name had quickly been settled on, and Max's threat to call him Dick had lightened the mood considerably. Troy remembered the debate that had waged about his own name. Max had wanted to name him after one of the great Greek generals, Hector or Achilles. He had rejected both claiming Achilles implied a weakness and Hector wasn't pretty enough for him; he'd been joking, but Max 

responded with a quick jibe at his conceit – "Fine, then we'll name you after the prettiest person in history… Troy, after Helen of Troy." The roar of laughter that this had caused had pretty much sealed his fate.

To their surprise, the members of Alpha team, found the transition from using their designations to using their names to be a fairly easy. Before anyone realized it, they had all begun to use the "Max names" not only with one another, but even privately within their own minds.

Quite an interesting development, mused Troy

Suddenly, Max's raised voice, brought Troy out of his reflections.

"Listen Brin, no one's asking you to win a contest for Miss Congeniality, but just maybe you could stop acting like such an uptight bitch!"

With that, Max walked out on a stuttering Brin, who gave Troy one searing look of challenge before also stalking out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Seattle, Lydecker's base of operations…**

The X5s were out of patience. Over five months had passed with no news of Zack and no word of Manticore's demise. Some of Lydecker's unidentified sources had given them reason to believe that Manticore was a house of cards, waiting for one strong breeze to knock it down, but Donald's "kids" didn't put much stock in his, or his sources, word.

So despite stake outs and hacks, the inside of Manticore remained a lock box and neither Logan nor Max's siblings were willing to wait much longer to crack.

"How about we attempt to get someone on the inside?" suggested Seth, "someone who could pose as a regular soldier and get into the base."

"We've been over this soldier," replied the colonel. "It takes a special appointment and recommendations to get into Manticore special ops. While command might not notice your 'substitution' those within the unit would sniff you out quickly."

Turning to Logan, Lydecker asked, "Any word on new hires for lab techs or doctors, any additional personnel?"

"Not a thing," Logan responded. "Seems you were right about the hiring freeze; nobody new in and nobody old coming out, except in body bags."

"Eliminating the brain-trust," stated Lydecker, as cooly as if he himself hadn't been responsible for the death of Dr. Vertes less than a year prior.

The thought made Logan's blood pressure rise slightly. Just as Max's family could hardly stand to be around Lydecker without doing him bodily harm, Logan sometimes found himself staring with hate at the old soldier remembering all the pain and anxiety he'd caused Max, and by association him. He remembered the long, sorrowful trip to the cabin when they'd both thought Max's cover was permanently compromised and she would be leaving for good. He remembered the agonizingly close calls they'd had when Max had found Hannah and when Max had been locked in prison nearly dying from her serotonin deficiency.

But the episode with Dr. Vertes triggered a special type of resentment in Logan. If Vertes had lived and her treatment had worked, Logan reasoned, his relationship with Max might have been expedited. He might have had the courage to kiss her sooner, to touch her the way he had been dreaming of for months. They could have had more moments together, and though he knew it was impossible, a small part of Logan wondered if they had had more time to solidify their relationship if he couldn't have talked her out of storming Manticore that fateful night.

Ridiculous to play the what if game, Logan reasoned, but when all one had to cling to was two kisses and a few stolen touches it made one greedy and prone to dream of ways to have had more.

Still, he knew, it wouldn't have been enough.

"What are the reports from the field?" Lydecker commanded, breaking into Logan's thoughts.

Krit replied: "Derek reported back 48 hours ago from Washington; he said the committee has met three times this week and that Renfro attended the earliest one; he requests permission to intercept her on her next trip for interrogation purposes."

"Negative to that." Lydecker responded, "We grab her and we can kiss any surprise attack we might have had goodbye."

Krit continued, "Zane, Jondy, and Syl are stationed in the point out points surrounding the Manticore perimeter; they have yet to have a visual sighting of Zack – although Zane did want me to pass along that the accommodations suck and he requests a Cale special catering service."

"Duly noted."

"And that's it for now; Logan and I have been unable to get anything off the Manticore database as no new communication seems to be occurring and internal surveillance is still down." Krit concluded.

"What about looking into Renfro's personal e-mail server; she's probably handling all communication directly from her office."

"We'll look into," Logan stated.

"Don't get trigger happy," warned Lydecker. "Partly this is a waiting game. It's only a matter of time before something on the board changes, and when it does we're going to be ready to capitalize on it."

Although he may be right, thought Logan, the gun was already cocked and the trigger was halfway pulled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers….**

"Hey boo," welcomed Original Cindy, as Logan and Krit walked in. "Hope you don't mind, Bling let me in."

"Not at all," remarked Logan, distractedly. "Didn't realize you were coming by, otherwise I'd have let security know."

Since that first night of drunken reminiscences, Cindy had made a sporadic habit of stopping by for booze and memories. It was a situation that served them both well when the sadness became too much.

"Any word on the mission to bring down the government agency from hell?" asked Cindy. Once she had learned Logan's double identity and met Max's siblings, it had been Syl who had told her of Max's death, there had been little point in denying the revenge game that they were playing.

"Not a damn thing," stated a frustrated Logan, "Five months of leg work from the nation's most elite fighting force and intel work from the most comprehensive informant network, and we still aren't one step closer to bringing Zack home and revenging Max."

Watching him pace back and forth in aggravation, Original Cindy was grateful for the exo-skeleton which allowed him to expend some of excess energy. However, she could sense from both men that it wouldn't be much longer before things came to a head.

That was the thing about revenge, it required a lot energy to sustain and the buy-product of anger that it engender was an explosive poison that invaded the body and upset the soul.

"Listen, I know it seems bad right now, but you know it's always darkest before the dawn," Cindy stated, with only a hint less of her regular attitude. "There is no way Max's spirit is gonna let you down; you'll see, she'll send you a sign soon and it will lead you to where you need to go."

It was the closest thing to prayer that any of Max's inner circle had ever murmured. And although Original Cindy had no idea how far from heaven Max's spirit really was; she was correct in thinking that Max was about to send them a sign.

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**Manticore, late at night…**

At night, Manticore was like a graveyard, cold, somber, and final. No matter how many times Max ventured through the halls, her mind would inevitably wander back to the nightmares of her childhood, as she and her brothers and sisters would be forced to march in perfect military alignment to whatever 

set of drills had been on the agenda for that day. It always made Max feel vulnerable and lonely, and no matter how she tried to fight it, she couldn't help but think of those lost siblings and wish she was with them.

It took a few weeks, but her night time activities were eventually rewarded when Max found an abandoned medical lab on the basement level. The lab contained a small computer terminal that had once been hooked into the heart of Manticore. Although the computer was now largely obsolete, the old files were still contained within its working database. Apparently even Manticore wasn't immune to office decay.

Through its system, Max found files containing information on herself and each of her siblings, as well as information on the next X5 class and preliminary data on the X6s. She was able to learn about the different "cocktails" which each of them had sprung from, their different progress reports, and the seizures that plagued them; she was also able to learn about the medical experiments that were being conducted during the time of their escape.

Given what was here, Max came to the conclusion that this particular lab had been closed around the time of the '09 escape, perhaps right before the pulse. It seemed to have specialized in finding cures for human illness, and given the slight humanitarian bent of that project, Max figured it was probably the first one closed when the funding had become tight.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she was able to hack into the personal e-mail account of the lead scientist of the lab. Right before they had been shut down and reassigned, he had sent out a series of irate e-mails waxing on about how close they were coming to solving a number of previously incurable aliments. Looking at the list, Max had to admit it was pretty impressive.

Personally this man, Thompson, had been loathed to be moved to the more "active" labs of the Manticore facility. He was apparently squeamish about participating in the "simplification" process that was being conducted on the remaining X5s and X6s. Max learned from his records that the method being conducted on the two groups was radically different. X5s were submitted to psyops evaluations, given psycho-enhancing drugs and submitted to propaganda. However, they were deemed to be too old to be included in the neuro-manipulation techniques that were practiced on the four and five year old X6s. Actual brain wave patterns were being altered and apparently Dr. Thompson, whose specialty hadn't been limited to medical research, had felt it was too invasive of a project to be successful.

He'd been right, Max thought, as she considered the X6s. DNA wise the X6s were replicas of the fifty X5s that had been created in the original two classes. Their genetic codes had been slightly upgraded in specific areas that corresponded with their natural "gifts," but without a functioning, independent will they were unable to capitalize on these traits.

Max was amused to learn her X6s clone had been designed specifically as an enemy recon specialist, a soldier who would slip into dangerous enemy territory to gather information before any preliminary investigation had been completed. Her success at escape and evade missions, her skills in hand-to-hand combat, her multi-cultural appearance, her ability to go for long-periods without sleep, her creativity 

during live drills were all noted as attributes that should be exploited. There was also a large note in her file examining the effects of feline DNA to her body. Although most of her siblings had some of the furry-ancestor in their genes, apparently, Max was one of five where a slightly different sequence had also been used. In particular, they seemed interested in how the sequence, which was related to reflex and muscle control, would ultimately impact her reproductive system.

Max had to scoff, so those scientist who had made her hadn't purposely given her the little "side" effect that had plagued her sex life since she was sixteen. Typical.

However, the most interesting information that Max was able to gather was access to inter-department memos that had been flying between the big-wigs. Scientist Thompson was nosy and had felt that he should be in the know for whatever decisions were being made, and so he had hacked into command's personal files. The messages, particularly between Lydecker and the committee, were enlightening. There were also other messages between players Max had never heard that made little sense without their context. It was all food for thought.

It took a week to look through all the material on the computer, even with Max's advanced processing abilities. Yet, even after she had parsed through most of the information there remained certain files that were too encrypted for Max to access, an impressive feat given this guy had been working with technology that was over a decade old.

Nevertheless, Max felt satisfied at her progress, and for reasons she couldn't decipher, she decided to transfer the information from the computer to CDs that she intended to hide away for vague future purposes. What those purposes might be Max had no idea, but she didn't feel settled until she had the information hidden high up, in the knot of an old oak tree. The spot seemed somehow meaningful for Max; she had twice now hidden things in Manticore's verdant canopy and she wasn't completely sure why. Despite her cat DNA, she wasn't the climber of the group that had been Zack, a fact that made a lot of sense given what she now knew about his genetic cocktail.

The logical part of Max's mind was completely bewildered by her actions, but somewhere in her subconscious she knew she was doing the right thing; obeying that vague voice which commanded: "Fight them Maxie!"

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**Hillside near Manticore… **

Zane was cranky; although he wouldn't have phrased it like that. He would say he was uncomfortable, cold, and tired. That he missed his dog, his job, and his bed. He would say that after five months of work and worry he deserved some much needed R&R. If he thought about it, he might even have been able to verbalize that being in such close proximity to his childhood hell was a subtle form of torture. However, if someone were to ask either Syl or Jondy who were stationed at different lookouts, what his problem was, they'd tell them: Zane was cranky.

Fortunately for all involved, Zane was still an X5. No matter how many years had passed or how cranky he was, he still kept a close watch on what he was doing. So, when something happened, he saw the slightly unnatural sway to the forest canopy and was able to use his enhanced sight to zero in on the Xseries soldier who emerged briefly into his line of vision, high above the ground. He wasn't close enough to see a barcode, or to see what exactly she was doing. But when her face briefly turned in his direction, Zane had a sudden flash back.

With nearly perfect recall, he visualized the Jam Pony badge that Original Cindy had brought during one of her recent visits; right before they all dispersed on their various assignments. It was the only image him, Jondy, Derek, Seth, and Coreen had ever seen of their adult baby sister: of Max.

Zane only paused in shock for a moment; almost immediately he picked up his com link and called for Syl to meet him on the east ridge. She would be able to tell for certain. However, long before she got there the mysterious visage had vanished.

"Zane, what happened, what did you see?" Syl panted, having run over at the first sign of trouble.

Hesitating momentarily before his voice regained the soldier's confidence, Zane stated: "Max. I saw a vision of Max."

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**Thank you for the reviews. **

**Please let me know if there are things that seem confusing or incoherent to you - it makes sense in my mind I swear. If you're following, I have changed a few things - Luke to Zane, Brin's designation - in order to be more in line with the show.**


	8. Chapter 8

**So here's another installment. I'll try to update faster in the future.**

**In answer to Princess 456: I simply meant to suggest that Zane couldn't be sure of what he was seeing when he caught a glimpse of Max. He couldn't know it was her for sure, but of course he could suspect it given his photographic memory. I used "vision" but also thought about using the words ghost, mirage, dream, or spectre, but none of them really worked for me. If I think of a better one I'll change it. Thank you for the question. I hope I cleared it up. **

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**East Ridge, near Manticore….**

"Are you sure, Zane," questioned Jondy for the third time. "Are you sure it was Max you saw."

The three X5s were gathered around Zane's look out dressed in camo, discussing his recent sighting.

"Like I already told you," an exasperated Zane replied. "I have no idea if it was Max but it sure as hell resembled the picture of her that her friend showed us."

Pausing a moment, the three X5s looked at each other for guidance. Had this been a battle or had their lives been in imminent danger they wouldn't have hesitated, but this was different. This was hope and despair wrapped up in a ten second moment.

"Dammit!" swore Zane. "I wish it had been you who saw her Syl."

"Wouldn't have made any difference," Syl reassured him. "When we were back at Manticore we saw our X7 clones. Only from a distance, but man was it disturbing. Whoever you saw Zane, whether it physically looked like Max or not, doesn't guarantee that it was her. It could be a genetic replica….. How old did she look?"

"Around our age. The age in the picture. She wasn't child, of that at least I'm certain." Zane stated.

"Well then, we need to know how old our X6 clones are. And luckily I have just the man to answer us," stated Syl.

"I think Zane and I should report back in person," suggested Jondy. "You need to stay here Syl in case there are any more sightings."

"Agreed."

Again silence over took them before Jondy voiced what they were all thinking.

"I want it to be true. I want our baby sister to be alive."

"I know sis," comforted Zane, "me too."

Unwilling to allow the somber mood to continue to oppress them, Zane added, "But if she is, who's going to tranquilize Cale so he doesn't come rolling up to Manticore in a tank filled with explosives?"

His sisters gave him a tight smile before they all separated to accomplish their objectives.

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**Manticore….**

Max couldn't wait to get a shower.

She was covered in sweat and mud and blood from the physical training session that had gone on for nearly six hours that morning. This is what she hated most about Manticore, besides the color grey. She hated the regimented sessions of training, experimentation, and command drills that left her feeling like a guinea pig; or lab rat; or attack dog – anything but the human she innately knew she was.

And god did it all make her she longed for freedom; the ability do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, just because. Had she ever felt that way? She wasn't sure, but sometimes when she was in her safe place she would feel the wind whipping through her hair while she traveled at a high speed. In that moment, a sense of pure joy would burst through her body…

She hoped it was real once.

"Soldier! Are you paying attention?" X624 barked.

They were in a room filled with ordinaries, command ordinaries, and so Troy needed to put on his C.O. hat. Max knew this and tried not to feel resentment; she understood he was trying to spare her from the punishment that would surely come if she couldn't repeat his commands word for word.

"Yes sir, I am going to engage the target in a pre-arranged social function to do recon. I am not to have any contact with the subject unless he initiates. I will report back to my command at 0300 to update."

Max was grateful for her ability to parallel process.

"Correct. X7734 will simultaneous be doing recon in…."

Max let her mind drift away from the conversation, familiar enough will her unit's order to be able to improvise if necessary. Right now she was more concerned with whether the sticky substance in her pant leg was dirt or blood. Since she couldn't look down, she thought over whether or not she had taken any hits to her lower extremities. It was a little game Max played to pass the time.

Her inner mind snorted in derision. Real fun Max, she thought, you can be original and call the game, dirt or mud, or how about black or red. Black was better, mud didn't crust quiet as painfully as blood when it dried.

Damn, a shower sounded good.

The meeting was just about to adjourn, when a group of three soldiers accompanied by Renfro entered the room.

And she had been so close to that shower thought Max.

"Hello commanders. I trust the meeting went well," Renfro smirked, her voice as smooth and dangerous as a snake's.

"Yes ma'am." Was the universal reply.

"Anything to report X624," she casually asked.

She was taunting them; they all knew that. She wouldn't be here without a reason and she was playing with them before she let them know what the reason was. Max could almost see the ordinaries holding their breath.

"All is reviewed and ready, ma'am," stated Troy.

"Excellent."

Pausing a moment before she struck, Renfro did a half turn around the room before she finally ended her gaze on Max.

"X452, you're wanted in the psyche ward before your departure. I've ordered a complete psychological prob." Renfro smiled while she talked. They both knew she had essentially relegated Max to continuous torture until she left on her mission.

Max didn't give her the satisfaction of a flinch, though her insides were screaming.

"Yes ma'am," was all she said.

X624 and 734 stepped forth simultaneously, though it was Brin who spoke first.

"Ma'am, will all due respect how is X452 suppose to be up to combat standards with so little recovery time."

It was the safe question, but not the real one. Both X5s knew that doing a psychological prob on Max, now that she had accepted her role at Manticore would be risky. She had been led to believe she had returned to Manticore of her own freewill – that the genetics lab was only a brief relapse. Any questions regarding the whereabouts of her brothers and sisters; not to mention her previous whereabouts and the whereabouts of Lydecker and the cyberterrorist, Eyes Only would only create confusion for her.

Not to mention the physical damage that Max would have to sustain right before a risky mission.

There was no doubt to either of them that the measure was both unnecessary and strategically unsound. It wasn't the first time Troy had questioned Manticore's or Renfro's motives, but it was the first time Brin had - since her reindoctrination that was. Unbeknowingstly to Renfro, a seed of doubt slipped in her perfect soldier.

"If X452 is truly up to standards," Renfro responded, "the plane ride should be plenty of time for the recovery period. Isn't that true 624?" again the tone was light, but they all sensed the threat underlying the question.

"Yes ma'am, X5s have a twelve hour recovery period for psychological _torture_." Troy dutifully stated, though he stressed the last word slightly.

Renfro heard it, and called him on it: "Well if you think she's not up to it; I suppose it could wait until after the mission. What do you think 624."

Behind her, Max felt Alec tense, ready to spring if the command came. The bitch was forcing Troy to give the order. She must have noticed the newly formed bond between Max and her CO and wanted to break it – just for fun, just to isolate her more.

Despite her knowledge of the tactics, Max turned her eyes to Troy. She wanted to see what he'd do; if he's really risk blowing his perfect soldier front to try to save her, futile though they all knew it was.

X624's eyes never wavered from Renfro's.

He firmly stated: "X452 is debriefed on the mission and up to peek physical standards. She is ready for any evaluation you deem necessary. Ma'am!"

"Well conducted soldier," Renfro simpered. "Escort her to psyops," she directed the soldiers who had come in with her.

Max's eyes flickered briefly to Brin's and Alec's, before she left. Head held high, shoulders back she didn't bother to look at the predatory smile on Renfro's face. The bitch wanted blood, and for now she'd get it

XXX

The door slammed shut behind Renfro and the dozen ordinaries who had been present at the meeting. For once, even Alec was quiet. The X5s all set about their tasks, calmly, detached.

It would have taken a far more astute eye than Renfro's to detect the slight tremor in Brin's hands or the slightly extra force Bigg's used piece together his weapon.

However, what was most conspicuous to those gathered in the room was X624's reaction. Although he continued to give out orders and arrange plans, for once, he didn't meet the eyes of his command unit.

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**Seattle, Lydecker's base…**

Seth, Krit, Jondy, and Zane were all sitting or standing tensely; anxious to hear Lydecker's response to Zane's now completed story.

"And the hair?" Lydecker asked, determined to get all the details.

"Same color, but longer, less curly," replied Zane.

"And you're sure about the age; you aren't mistaking a nine-year old Max with the few visual images her roommate supplied."

"No. She was an adult."

Lydecker paced as he processed the information, not bothering to let his kids in on his internal reflections.

After five minutes, Seth gritted out, "Dammit Lydecker is it Max or not!"

Lydecker briefly considered scolding Seth on patience, but reconsidered when he saw how close they all were to exploding.

"Whether or not it's Max I can't be sure. But I do know it's not her X6 clone. Not only are the X6s still teenagers – 13, 14, 15 years old – but Max's clone died before she reached the age of nine."

The X5s took in the information.

"So in a few years you're going to have genetic replicas of us," replied Krit. It hadn't escaped them that this would make hiding much harder once Manticore could plaster their image all over the country.

"That's correct in the strictly physical sense. However, your X6 clones don't possess the… mental fortitude that you do." Lydecker calmly answered.

"Meaning…" Jondy asked.

"They can't act as individual soldiers."

"Who the hell cares about that," blasted Seth. "We'll be sitting ducks."

"No you won't, not for Manticore anyway." Lydeckered stated. "It will be gone by then. However, for those who wish to gain Manticore technology…" Lydecker shrugged, "you'll always be hunted. That's partly why I'm here, to ensure your safety."

"Gee thanks dad," quipped Zane.

"Let's forget about this for now," Jondy interrupted. "It's a problem for another time. Now we need to figure out how to confirm whether or not Max is among the living and how."

"It will be easier to confirm whether or not she's among the dead," stated Lydecker. "Manticore does bury it's X series in marked graves. If Max died, chances are she's there. If she's not, then we consider the possibility that she survived. As for how, it would have to be a heart-transplant or nano-technology implant… it's the only way she could have survived that bullet wound. Both seem unlikely given the circumstances. However, one step at a time."

"And what about Logan?" Jondy asked. She had turned her back on Lydecker, not wanting him involved to this conversation. "Do we tell him our suspicions?"

The four X5s looked at one another, once again at a loss now that the subject had turned to personal matters.

Finally Krit offered an opinion: "To get his hopes up like that when we don't know anything for sure could be…"

"devastating," Jondy finished. "I agree. We keep this information amongst ourselves until we get a confirmed identification. But if we do, we make telling him our top priority."

They all nodded.

"Now let's figure out how to get a look at those gravestones and try to get some information on Zack's location," said Krit.

The brothers and sisters sprang into action; renewed by this unexpected hope.

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**Fogle Towers………**

After he finished recording his hack, Logan sighed and leaned back in his chair. It was a new record, three broadcasts bringing down three different bad guys in a week. The criminals had been small time, barely worth the on-air minutes, but they kept Eyes Only on the map while Logan kept up his crusade against Max's killers.

The sudden flood of activity had come from a recent realization. In the last week, Logan had come to acknowledge that eventually, for better or worse, the Manticore situation would be resolved and then he, Logan Cale, would have to go on living. He needed Eyes Only in a way that mimicked the desperation he had felt when he had created it shortly after his divorce from Valerie. It was his life-line; his touchstone; his raison d'etre.

He realized now this was only half living, but it would have to suffice; death wasn't an option.

That was a promise he had made to Max.

Thinking back, the pledge he had given her seemed so much more poignant given her untimely death. It was almost like she could sense what was coming, and had made sure he wouldn't do anything rash in his grief.

It had happened a few days after their trip to Cape Haven, only two or three weeks after Vertes had been killed and Logan had been consigned once again to the wheelchair.

He had been online, scanning the internet for the obituaries of the four men he killed in Cape Haven's local paper. It hadn't been posted immediately, apparently the small town newspaper only updated its website periodically, but today they were up for the whole world to see. Logan had been so absorbed in reading the small entries that he hadn't heard Max call to him as she entered his apartment.

"I see self-flagellation is the order of business today," she had murmured at his shoulder.

He had jumped, startled by her sudden appearance. It was a reaction she must have liked, because she repeated her stealth approach fairly frequently in the following weeks.

"Hey Max, didn't hear you come in."

When she didn't answer, but merely raised her eyebrows at him, he had been forced to answer her unspoken question.

"I just needed to know what it said; hear about their lives and families." He stated firmly.

"Do you think some two inch memorandum in a newspaper is really a good summary of their lives Logan? Let me guess it states how they lived a good life, died too young, and are survived by people who might or might not be sorry they're gone. That about sum it up?" Sarcasm permeated her voice.

"Max… they were men. With lives, with a future that I took away. I need to know what exactly that was; who they were."

"And you think reading that prewritten, sentimental drivel is going to tell you?"

"Why does this bother you so much?" he had deflected.

"I'll tell you why Logan. Because those words are just vivid enough to make you think of them like misguided lost-souls and vague enough that you can read in your own subtext about dogs, and girlfriends, and Saturday afternoon barbecues. It detracts for the few concrete facts you actually know about them: they were thugs, killers, and rapists. They tortured and killed a young family; they came on to me like a piece of meat and treated you like a nonentity; they wanted to murder us, but not before they'd had their fun with me and probably brutalized Sage."

"You don't think I know that," spit out Logan, angry for a myriad of different reasons.

"Do you? Do you really Logan? They made their choice…"

"And I made mine. To kill rather than be killed."

"To save us," interjected Max. "You know nothing about self-preservation Logan. About killing to live, about killing to stop your pain or to fulfill an order."

He really looked at her then. Her eyes were serious, her meaning dark. It was a darkness he had felt in her before. It didn't scare him; it fascinated him.

She continued to press: "You have killed before; you know that right? Here in your ivory tower; you've pulled the metaphoric trigger. It's a war, Logan, and you've won, dozens of time."

Their eyes clashed, and Logan felt the corresponding darkness in his own soul. The immutability and fortitude which pushed him to do what he must to save those who couldn't help themselves. She was giving him his own words, repackaged with all their darker implications intact.

"Yes, I know," he didn't waver from eyes. He wasn't ashamed.

"You've killed diseased individuals to save faceless individuals for intangible values."

"Yes."

"Tell me Logan, why did you kill those four men." Her eyes dared him to lie to her again; He didn't.

"I did it for you Max; you and Sage."

He understood what she had just done; the connections she had drawn to give him prospective, and he was grateful for it. Figuring their conversation had reached its cresendo; he nearly turned back to his close the open computer windows when her voice continued the conversation.

"But it's not good enough, Logan."

She had lost him there, and the confusion had shown in his eyes.

So she clarified: "You need to be able to kill for yourself, to do what you did to survive. Otherwise, what's the point?"

The unemotional way she proclaimed he needed to kill to save himself, annoyed him: "Care to elaborate on that?"

"Sure," Max soldier on, "You can't care about other's lives so damn much, but see nothing worthwhile in your own."

Logan didn't respond immediately. He knew that Max was saying more than what was evident; that underneath the topic at hand was she getting at something else, something personal and painful.

So Logan did his best to head her off, one uncomfortable topic was enough for today.

"All I'm saying, Max, is that I feel bad that I took a life, four lives to be exact, but I do know what you're saying and you're right. I'd do it again if I was given the choice."

Max wasn't thrown off by the red herring, because he didn't know what she saying, not yet anyway. She wasn't willing to win the battle but lose the war.

So she ignored his intention to end the conversation and proceeded almost hostilely. "So life is precious for rapists and murders and genetically enhanced soldiers – but not for you. Logan Cale, protector of the down trodden, hero to thousands."

"Max…"

"No Logan, you don't get to pick and choose who counts in your "all life is sacred" B.S. Cuz what might not be worth much to you, might be worth a hell of a lot to those around you."

He was shocked by her words, at their implication. This was about the other night, the day Vertes had died. She knew what the gun had meant then; she had been carrying that knowledge around for weeks. And now she was determined to get something from him, in her backwards, roundabout way that only the two of them seemed able to follow.

It was her determination that struck him, and her sub-textual message that he meant something to her that reached him. He decided right then to give her what she wanted, in a fashion.

"Logan I need to know that you'd do it for yourself. That you would struggle to live. Could you promise me that; that you'd fight against what you had to to stay alive?"

Their eyes had clung to one another's, fighting for dominance.

"I never decided not to fight Max. It was only a thought, a moment."

"Promise me Logan," she insisted. And he did.

"I promise," he stated firmly, meeting her gaze, sealing their agreement. And then, so she knew he wasn't angry, he added. "I'm not going anywhere."

The memory of that promise still rung in his head, and Logan was determined to follow through. He could honestly say it wasn't that he needed it to keep from killing himself - the grief from Max's death was different from what he had felt at the lost cure. Max's death was numbing and sharply painful in turns. It made him angry at the injustice of the world and incredibly lonely for her – but it wasn't the self-hatred that he had felt at his paralysis.

No, Logan needed the memory of that promise to remind himself what he was fighting for, so that he wouldn't forget that he cared about others even if he couldn't connect with them. He needed to keep himself grounded. He wasn't pursuing Manticore for ideals or values; for innocent masses; or loved friends – He was going after them for revenge, and he needed to make sure he didn't kill the man who had made that promise to Max in the process.

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**Manticore…**

The five other members of Euro mission were touring the armory one last time when the call came from command to pick up their missing member.

The tall "ordinary" soldier who approached the group felt slightly frightened by their gaze. It wasn't that there was any open hostility that he could see, they were all perfectly composed and responsive as always, but he just had this sensation that they were looking at him like an inferior ant, something sub-human although he knew that it was technically the other way around. It was a feeling that many of the soldiers stationed at Manticore had had at one point or another.

"Command requests that you pick up and restore X452 from psyops. Your departure is schedule for 0900 hours," stated the soldier.

"I'll be back with her shortly," responded Brin.

"Ma'am," the slightly nervous soldier stepped forward. "Command has indicated that X624 is suppose to collect his team member and make her ready for departure."

The X5s didn't respond verbally, and to the ordinary soldier their expression remained impassive. However, even he could sense the tension that permeated the room.

"Very well soldier. I'll be there momentarily," replied Troy.

The soldier left quickly, anxious to be away from the mysterious super-soldiers.

There still was no verbal communication amongst the unit; there was nothing to say, they all knew what was happening and were powerless to stop it. Renfro was creating a dehumanizing environment to exercise her control over the X5s. She was denying Brin the right to check on her sister; she was forcing Troy to get an unmitigated look at what his command had done; and she was forcing Max into the humiliating position of having a male, her CO, tend to what would surely be intimate wounds.

It was all completely unnecessary and, if Renfro had truly thought about it, dangerous. Nevertheless, the unit performed its duties flawlessly. Troy briefly caught the eyes of his command, willing them to patience, and then turned to the door to fix up Max for the flight that would be leaving in less than two hours.

XXXXXXXXX

When Troy entered the psyops rooms he saw Max propped up in one of the experimentation chairs twitching uncontrollably. She was still covered in a combination of mud and blood, her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead, and she had an unresponsive expression on her face.

Scientist Avery didn't bother to look at the X unit who came to claim 452, but stated in a detached voice, "We administered the liquid tryptophan five minutes ago. The seizure is mild and should wear off shortly."

Troy willed his hands to remain clenched at his sides. "Any reports for Madame X?"

"No," Avery stated evenly, "No progress has been made with the subject."

"Any…" Troy swallowed, "Damage to her reasoning capacities."

Avery heard the hesitation in the X5's questions. He had been stationed at Manticore a long time and knew more about these soldiers than most.

He turned his face to look at Troy before stating: "_Max_ is tough there shouldn't be any lasting damage.

Troy nodded and picked up the seizing Max before strolling to the doorway.

XXXXX

Max came to with a throbbing headache and a wicked case of vertigo. It took her a minute to realize she was lying on the floor of a shower in one of Manticore's minimalistic bathrooms. Luke-warm water was beating down over her clothed body and her head was being propped up by someone who was briskly, but not roughly, washing her hair.

For a moment, Max's mind dipped back into her safe place. She was surrounded by his smell, though she couldn't see his face, and she felt her hair tenderly being stroked from her forehead. Max recognized the moment her fear turned to a sense of security, as she vaguely she heard the words: "I'm not going anywhere."

It last only a moment, but it was enough for Max to gain the energy to snap her eyes open and focus on Troy, who was supporting her.

"Don't make any sudden movements," he warned, "we need to get you cleaned up and then you can rest on the plane."

Despite his warning, Max struggled to lift herself from his grasp as she looked down at her left pant leg.

"Red," she murmured discontentedly, before weakly falling back into his hands.

"Max, you know I'm going to have to strip you to clean your wounds and get you ready for the mission." To his credit, Troy's voice remained steady.

"Do what you need to, but if you cop a feel I'm going to kick your ass." Max stated.

She could see the confusion in his eyes. He obviously had no idea what the phrase "cop a feel" meant, but he could pick up on her warning to him to remain professional.

"Max… I.." Troy stopped, for a once at a loss to convey what he was feeling, both his respect for her and his sense of guilt.

She took pity on him.

"Just get me out of these pants, and I'll be able to take care of the essentials," Max sternly stated, before looking him in the eyes and adding, "I'll be alright."

An hour and fifteen minutes later Max left with her unit on a military convoy headed for a civilian airport. They were suppose to split onto separate flights once there, on the incredibly slim chance someone might be closely monitoring comings and goings of Paris' terminals. However, once they were safely away from Manticore, Brin had insisted on going with Max.

Max was too exhausted to consciously focus during the trip, but she could tell as she weakly rested her head against Brin's shoulder during the long flight that something had changed in her sister, something important.

XX

Brin wasn't the only sister watching out for Max that night. From the east ridge, Syl watched the departing convoy. The distance was too far for even her eyes to see the faces of entering soldiers, and the covered vehicle hid their faces as they left, but Syl had noted the long-dark hair and slight build of one of the soldiers and despite trying to remain objective, hope leaped up in her heart.

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**That's all for now; I hope this chapter wasn't too unfocused. Thanks again for the reviews; they motivate me to keep writing. :-)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Manticore's outer grounds…**

Although command didn't know it, six of Manticore's lost sons and daughters were returning home that night for a visit. Krit, Jondy, Syl were making their way, under the cover of dark, to the south hillside where Manticore's forlorn graveyard lay.

Months of monitoring had alerted them to the X7s patrol patterns, so they knew they had approximately a 15minute window to explore the yard to find Max's headstone. Like wisps of black silk trailing over a hardwood table, they were smooth and nearly silent. The only sounds to be heard were those from the forest floor – the swish of wind through bushes, the shuffle of night creatures in search of prey.

When they reach the graves, the three immediately separated into three pre-determined paths, quickly sweeping from one row to the next. Despite the small number of soldiers created per series, there were four previous generations of X soldiers to filter through as well as some scientists and regular soldiers.

As her eyes rapidly shifted from number to number – not name to name, she bitterly noted – Syl's eyes finally alighted on one that made her gasp. Her eyes quickly met Krit's and Jondy's who had heard the noise and looked to her for confirmation. Syl shook her head and added a negative militaristic hand gesture. Despite Lydecker's warning that a gravestone for Zack might still be there, it had still shocked her to see his barcode looking back at from the hard, gray slab of cement.

Poor Zack, Syl reflected, what horrors he had endured and continued to endure from his makers.

Nearly in unison, they finished their sweeps and once more made eye contact. First Krit, then Syl, then Jondy all made the negative hand motion. With smiles now spread over their faces they made their way to the rendezvous point.

XXX

Lydecker knew about the X5s sweep of the graveyard. He had helped them to plan it, and had felt a great sense of satisfaction from once more being "in charge" of his kids.

But what he had yet to understand was that he would never truly be trusted, let alone in command, of his former soldiers. Not in this lifetime anyway.

Donald Lydecker was many things: a brilliant strategist; a loyal patriot; an adept trainer. In his mind, the fulfillment of all these things was through his X5 progeny. He truly believed that he was helping them to achieve some greater sense of purpose, some manifest destiny in realizing their inner warrior. To him it was all about the bigger picture, one ultimate mission; any trace of the personal had died with his wife.

Unfortunately for him, the twelve X5s who had escaped that night were more than advanced infantry units; they were human beings. Emotionally backward, reticent, and wary – but feeling individuals nonetheless. In many ways they were like him: they were loyal, brilliant, and trained. But their highest goal wasn't abstract military glories; it was freedom, life, and happiness.

Lydecker had made his biggest mistake when he had pulled the trigger on Eva that cold March night. By shooting her, he guaranteed that his "kids" would never see him as anything but antithetical to all they hoped to have. He would never again have the upper hand through anything but pure force.

As a result, he wasn't privy to the second recon force that went into Manticore that night. Zane, Coreen, and Seth took a different route than the first team. Instead of heading south, they explored the east forest, climbing up trees and checking knot holes, branches, trunks for whatever the woman who resembled Max had been doing that day. Lydecker would never have agreed to the second mission, seeing the chance for exposure through unforeseen variables to be too great. He would have noted that even with Zane's X5 sense of location, finding one tree within a fifteen minute window would be nearly impossible. Lydecker would also question the purpose of such a mission. What did they hope to find? Did they think Max had left them a message or a clue? Both seemed highly doubtful.

He didn't have the X5s' indomitable trust in their sister. If Max were alive, then her brothers and sisters believed that she would get a message to them. They saw her foray into Manticore's canopy as more than just a training exercise; it was a chance to find freedom.

Even with their stealth and quickness, they only had a few minutes to explore before the next patrol would come within visual range. If they had to, they would remain up in the trees while the patrol passed underneath them, risking exposure until they had thoroughly explored the region – they were done with waiting.

However, that wasn't necessary. Zane hit the correct tree on his third attempt. As he came to a height that he knew would be viewable to someone stationed at their look out, he examined the tree, using his night vision to make out any flaws in the bark. Even then, he might not of seen the computer disk if the moon hadn't peeped through the clouds and a tiny bit of light reflected off the clear plastic case.

Carefully he extracted the disk, using his gloved hands and only touching it by its sides. If the graveyard convoy was going to ascertain that Max wasn't dead, than the forest convoy was prove that she was alive.

Giving an internal whoop of joy, Zane sent up the quiet signal that the group should leave the forest and head to the rendezvous point.

It was probably a Manticore record to have six smiling X5s within its boundaries at one time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers...**

Logan's brain was floating through an alcohol induced haze, his head resting back in the arm chair, his eyes unfocused, as he listened to the female voice beside him. From the couch, Original Cindy's voice slurred through a lengthy expostulation on Max's grooming habits.

"Sugar had no skills in the girlie arts. Ssister girl had never had a manicure before I knew her; never heard of exfoliating; and let's not even get into the fine art of matching bra and panties. Girl didn't even own a single skirt.." letting out a drunken laugh, Cindy continued, "She once told me that chipped nails were the price she paid for kicking ass… she was improving though. Fast learner that one."

"God she was beautiful…" Logan murmured.

Logan's mind had only tangentially been following Cindy's words. His own thoughts had been slipping through a series of images: the first time he ever saw her; her figure in that red formal dress; the profile of her face in candlelight. His admission had come from the deep pangs of longing and reverence that had been roaring through him at his memories. In his mind he likened watching her exquisite features to the aesthetic pleasure he found in viewing a masterful painting.

He took a sip of whiskey, the ice cubes clicking in his glass.

Original Cindy's eyes turned from the window to Logan's sprawled out form. His eyes were half closed and his voice was low and wistful. Original Cindy wasn't the type to hang on formalities; she said what she wanted, when she wanted, to whoever she wanted. However, there had always been something about Logan Cale that demanded respect; even when she thought he was a drug-pushing Richie pimp she had still answered his demand for an explanation. But now that she knew who he really was - the voice of hope and resistance that flashed across the television screen, inspiring her peeps and her to keep looking for a brighter tomorrow, wishing for a better dream - she had developed a deeper awe for the man.

Not that she would ever admit it.

It was that admiration which had kept her from asking him certain questions, up until this point. Although she was almost positive, she still wanted to hear about his feelings for Max. Something about the unguarded slip of that statement, prompted her to finally say: "So spill it, you were crazy about my boo weren't you."

Even now, she refrained from saying love.

Drunk though he made have been, Logan wasn't about to make an inebriated confession to Max's friend. Raising his eyes to Cindy's, Logan gave her an intense look that seemed to hold a slight threat if she choose to pursue the topic.

"My feelings for Max were… complex." Logan circumvented, his mood instantly darkening.

Damn, thought Original Cindy, man's feelings are locked up tighter than Fort Knox; no wonder my boo had issues getting through to him.

Nevertheless, the mysterious darkness that she felt in Logan implicitly reminded her of Max. No wonder they were attracted.

"Whatever," Cindy answered, "My homegirl was nearly as closed mouthed about her feeling for you… took me months to get her to fess up to anything…"

Carrot before the donkey… or ass, thought Cindy.

Logan's eyes flashed, but he didn't directly bite. "She was good at running away when things made her uncomfortable," he acknowledged.

"She could clam up faster than Normal with a gun pointed at his head." Cindy bantered back.

"Didn't mean she didn't feel things," Logan returned. "She had a thing for helping the innocent, especially kids."

"My boo was a complicated woman, no doubt. But she was loyal to her peeps, to her family."

"She told me I was her family," Logan confided, finally. "Up on the space needle, right before she…left."

"You were sugar. She ran from it pretty hard, but she couldn't deny what she felt."

"Did she ever say…never mind, I have no right to ask." Logan was torn; he wanted to know, but he knew he couldn't say the words himself. To admit his feelings out loud would be to acknowledge everything he'd lost; it would be to realize everything that had slipped through his fingers because he'd been too scared to reach out his hands and grab it.

"She never said straight up, but yeah, she said it in that round about way of hers."

"When?"

"After the heat fiasco, girlfriend was sitting on the couch looking like the world was coming to an end, crying too. She was pretty torn up, needing to tell you but not knowing how. Hating herself and what she did. I told her she need to come to the real about you two before her head exploded. She didn't deny it. "

"Cindy…"

"Yeah?"

"She wasn't the only one who was about to explode."

A smile blossomed on Original Cindy's face. Despite all the obvious differences, those two were so alike.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Washington D.C.**

Lydecker had been right about the bureaucracy that ran Manticore. After the attack it had been a barge of finger pointing, recriminations, and ass-covering.

Derek had managed to get deep undercover in one of the committee member's offices, serving as an intern. He was pretty sure the middle-aged woman who he was working under was interested in pursuing more than a business relationship, but fortunately seemed unpracticed in the art of exploiting her power for sexual favors.

If only she knew that the handsome young man who ran her errands, brought her coffee, and copied her notes was in fact one of the super-soldiers who she was campaigning against, she might have been dissuaded from attempting to begin the extra-martial affair she seemed so eager to embark on.

Derek had to laugh at the last transcript he had copied. The committee woman, who had been appointed from some of the more conservative factions of the government structure, had made an impassioned speech against the validity of the soldiers' rights. She claimed that since they were man-made the soldiers were obviously soulless and should be kept from being incorporated into the mass population, lest they corrupt it.

His amusement came from the woman's recent attempt to grab his ass by the coffee-maker: who was attempting to corrupt whom he snorted.

However, what he had learned from his position more than made up for the extra diligence over his backside that Derek had had to exercise. He learned that not only had Lydecker been correct in his assessment that Manticore was on shaky ground, but that the U.S. government was extremely worried that Manticore technology would be lost to foreign bodies. South African attempts to gain a live-sample were well-documents as was the attempts by European Union and the South Pacificians to buy the technology.

However, what seem particularly worrisome to those in charge were the more subtle, covert attempts by various under-ground militia groups. In particular, there was one group which seemed to have the necessary funding and fire-power, the group rumored to be responsible for the pulse in 09, and as Derek learned during a drunken confession from his boss, were also rumored to have a number of double-operatives working within various branches of the U.S. government. The NLU or Neo-luddite Underground.

More to Derek's objective, this meant that committee members were working to find a way to exploit their soldiers without risking tactical exposure. Fewer long-range missions were being assigned, and the troops were being kept close to home. Derek knew that this would change soon. Most suggestions included dismantling the program and deploying the troops in various military command positions; others favored complete termination of the X series, an unlikely solution given the technology and funding that had been put into the program. Either way, it would mean that Manticore would soon be easier to penetrate. Good news for the the "lost" soldiers of Manticore as they fought to bring their lost brother home.

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**Fogle Towers…**

Logan gave a shout of triumph to the dark interior of his apartment. After weeks of trying, he had finally find a way into Madame X's private e-mail box. As far as Logan knew, this marked the team's first viable success in the mission to find Zack.

Quickly his eyes began to scan through the e-mails and inner-department memos. He would eventually begin a methodical search of the files, but one in particular caught his eye. Marked "Lost Surrogate" the e-mail gave permission for a tack team, stationed in Washington, to begin a missing person's search for an Elinor Rodriguez. Although the e-mail didn't give many personal details it did say that the surrogate had only made it through one round of incubation and had left the program on negative terms. Contact had been lost shortly after the pulse when the woman had somehow checked out of the mental ward she had been stationed in and dropped off their radar.

As he read the short message, the hair on the back of Logan's neck stood on end. The dates were right, the few details he knew matched. Was this Max's missing mother, the one he had spent months searching for?

For reasons unknown to him, Logan found he needed to walk away from the screen.

This new information touched him in a way that little had. He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a stiff drink. He had only taken a sip before he unceremoniously flung the glass against the kitchen wall. Watching it shattered, Logan leaned his body against the counter, panting hard.

To have this information and to have no Max to tell it to made him unable to repress his fury. Finally giving in to the anger that seemed to be simmering below the surface for over a year and a half now, and the grief from the last six months, Logan punched his table top in a way that he knew would feel later.

He would need to go back to his computer sooner or later, but first Logan needed to go work out, to work through the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him and make him weak.

XXXXXXXX

**OC's & Max's apartment...**

Original Cindy was preparing to go out to Crash when she heard the knock on her door. Quickly she walked over to answer, working her skin tight blue-shiny pants and barely there black top; she was done being depressed and she was hoping to meet up with a particularly fine specimen of a woman that she had seen a few times hanging around the biker bar.

To her surprise, Max's sister Jondy was standing there.

"Hey Cindy, sorry to bother you so late. Hope I didn't interrupt anything." Jondy smiled lightly at the woman.

"Nah. I was just getting ready to go out. There is the fine lickety-chick that's been seen gracing the dirty halls of Crash. You wanna join me?"

Cindy liked Max's siblings, particularly Krit and Syl, but found she didn't relate to them the same way she had with Max. Maybe it was the emotional barriers they put up that she had gradually gotten through with Max. Maybe it was just that she'd had a special bond with her boo. Either way, she wasn't against getting to know these mysterious super-soldiers better, it just never seemed to get far.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm actually here for a purpose." Jondy stated. She hated to ask this, but knew it was necessary. "Listen Cindy, I know that it's been a while, but I'm wondering if you've packed up all of Max's things or if there might be some stuff of hers out still."

Original Cindy gave her a sympathetic smile. She was actually surprised that nobody had inquired about this before. Logan had asked her to keep an eye-out for one memento, a statue of a cat, and her siblings had asked to see a picture, which had promoted Cindy to bring over the picture ID – but no one had ever asked to see her apartment. What OC couldn't understand was how little stock the X5s, who were always on the move, never settling down, put in material items. You couldn't touch freedom.

To Cindy, however, the request seemed totally normal.

"I've packed away most sister-girl's clothes, but not her personal items. Couldn't bring myself to do it yet."

"Would you mind if I just… spent some time in her space." Jondy asked. She hated this duplicity but needed to do this without suspicion, in case it didn't work out.

That's what X5s did – they protected those around them.

"Sure girl. I understand. Listen I'm just going to head out. Take all the time you need."

Cindy gave Jondy a surprise hug before leaving. Her action prompted Jondy to think once again how much she like Max's outspoken friend.

However, once the door was shut the X5 got down to business. Taking out the kit, she decided the handlebars to her motorcycle and her bottle to tryptophan were good samples. For good measure she also took samples from her hair-brush and a make-container with foundation that looked too light for Cindy to use.

Taking on last survey of the apartment to notice how homey Max's place was, she let herself out, hoping against hope that she would soon be able to fill Cindy in on the results of her "visit".

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers, that same night...**

Krit found Logan an hour later doing sit-ups like a mad man. Sweat was pouring off him and it was obvious from the various equipment lying around that Logan had been using a series of different weights and machines.

"Hey man," Krit stated, "Sorry to barge in, but you weren't answering your door and we've got something important to discuss."

Logan paused briefly, "Find something?"

"Maybe." Krit underplayed. He didn't want to lie to Logan, but he wasn't about to prematurely inform him of their theory. "We're trying to find Zack as you know, and part of that is trying to confirm his presence at Manticore. It's possible they moved him before we had lookouts stationed."

Logan nodded, this wasn't a new topic of discussion.

"Anyway we have these prints, and I was wondering if you had access to a secure lab we could run them through." Krit provided four different slides labeled by number.

"I take it you think these are Zack's. Where did you get them?"

"Bottle of tryptophan, hairbrush, motorcycle… and one from this case," supplied Krit, holding up the referenced article.

"Zack used a hairbrush?" quipped Logan. "Seemed more like the finger-comb type."

Krit simply shrugged.

"So here's the real question, how did you get this and why wasn't I informed," asked Logan, he was good at spotting deflection, particularly X5 deflection.

"Zane was acting as look out when he saw someone who looked suspiciously like our sibling popping out of the forest canopy. We did a recon mission yesterday, the results of which you have in your hand. We didn't tell you because we had no idea that we'd find anything, but we figured we give it a try. Either way Lydecker isn't in on this little mission. We have no idea what's on this CD and if it's anything having to do with Manticore I think we'd better decide what we want to do with it before bring him in."

Logan nodded. "As long as we're sharing important information, you should probably know I hacked into Renfro's e-mail account today. It's going to take a while to go through everything, but it looks like she's the major player in that hell-hole."

"Excellent, so you want to take point with the e-mails; I look into the disk's contents. That just leaves the prints."

"My friend Sebastian should be able to help us out. Let me give him a call."

Krit smiled. Things were finally starting to look up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Paris, France…**

Max navigated the corridor like she was a queen, barely bothering to look at the puny plebeians who surrounded her. She was currently doing recon for her group's mission and right now that meant being dressed up in a beautiful, strapless deep-purple gown, worth thousands of dollars, acting as if she belonged as some European heiress in this glittery world.

It seemed to be working, except Max wasn't fitting in, she was standing out. Nearly every man's eyes were glued to her lithe and lush form as she took a glass of champagne, listened to the string quartet, and admired the view from the large room's balcony.

To an outside observer, Max was a beautiful woman enjoying herself and waiting on company. To an informed observer, she was carefully scoping out the layout of the apartment, including its defensive capabilities and possible hidden hideouts.

More than once, she had needed to put off the various male suitors that inquired after her well-being with various levels of skill. Her least favorites were the mole-eyed old guy who had openly leered at her exposed cleavage and the arrogant young man who had asked her if she wanted to take a ride on the Vespa in his pants in a language he assumed she didn't understand.

In the back of her mind, Max heard a voice that wasn't her own make a derogatory comment about the three-legged gender. Despite herself, she smiled.

Sometime around midnight, Max noticed her mark approaching. Her mission guidelines had dictated that she shouldn't approach him on her own, but if he took the liberty of coming to her, she shouldn't ignore the chance to do additional recon.

"My you're a lovely one," commented Christopher Valjean as he stood beside Max on the balcony. "Might I enquire as to name that I might put with the face."

He gave Max a benevolent smile that highlighted his intelligent features. Valjean was a good-looking man in his mid-sixty. His body was still trim and his glasses and silver hair made him distinguished looking. Max wasn't sure why, but he seemed to remind her of someone.

"Clarissa George," Max stated decisively, holding out her hand to be touched. She knew instantaneously that this man would prefer a firmer, more confident demeanor.

"Ah… Clarissa. I like it, literary but still feminine. Well Miss George, I hope you won't find this presumptuous but I think you'll find a more beautiful view of the night sky from the balcony of my rooms."

Max hesitated. She didn't like this turn of events. For a man like Valjean, this quick seduction technique seemed totally off, and to take him up on it when she had been turning down men all night would be out of character.

"Ahh.. I see you're hesitant. Very good. I promise to keep the doors open. You see I have a telescope there, and plenty of charming objects to elicit conversation from a beautiful woman." He smiled at her as if she were a prize pupil who had passed a final exam.

"Perhaps just for a few minutes. I find that French men tend to be a bit aggressive for those of us from the Isle." Max commented.

"Your accent is very good. I doubt most men you talked to had any idea you weren't from the continent." Valjean reassured her as they walked back to his personal rooms.

"I lack the idiomatic usage to be a true master." Max deferred. "But I'm learning."

"And someone like you learns quickly," Valjean answered, smiling another private smile to himself.

They reached his rooms swiftly, since they were just off from the main hall.

"And how would you know that?" Max countered, "For all you know I could be an ignorant English girl."

Holding the door open for her, and indeed keeping it open once she was inside, Valjean finally responded, "Well you see, I know you're really neither. And from what I know about X5s it's hardly likely that you won't master every task set before you."

Max tensed almost imperceptibly, but Valjean noticed and chuckled slightly.

"_Clarissa_, my dear, you're very good, but do you think I would have let you in this room without protection for myself? And let me add, if I wanted you dead you'd already be in that state."

Choosing her strategy quickly, Max asked, "How did you know?"

Valjean gave her a steady look as he answered. "The Manticore's first successes are all around the same age, and they are physical perfection – though I must say my dear you're more of an artwork than a mere copy of physical beauty. Your appearance alone was enough to alert my team and after a few hours of work we were able to place you on a series flights that originated from the U.S."

For all his obvious intelligence and vast resources the man sure wasn't very smart to let her know all this information. Even if he thought she was as good as dead, he shouldn't underestimate an X5 if he really knew what they were.

"While you file that information, my dear, let me fill you in on the reason I've chosen to be so open with you."

Max continued to listen, but was processing how many steps it would take get to and over the balcony.

"I'm not a foreign operative or the leader of a rogue militia or whatever other illegal activity I'm sure your superiors linked me to. I'm a member of the U.S. military, an undercover French operative that has been serving our government for nearly twenty-five years."

If he expected Max to react to this information he didn't wait long for it before continuing.

"Unfortunately not all of our government officials are quite as loyal as I am. And judging from your presence I'd have to guess that the head of Manticore, whoever that is now, isn't either. I've recently uncovered evidence of high ranking officials involved in a mass-scale operation, based in France, that is attempting to infiltrate all the world's premiere governments. Evidence of espionage certainly isn't news, but evidence linking certain officials to this group, known as NLU is.

"Sounds like a sporting organization." Max answered.

Valjean laughed appreciatively. "Well it's good to know that at least Manticore soldiers have a sense of humor. It gives one hope."

"Hope for what?"

"Clarissa, since I'd prefer to call you that rather than a set of numbers, according to my intelligence there are at least four X5s waiting to take me out. One alone would be sufficient. Although I was never involved in Manticore, I have worked with a few of your kindred from time to time and have a healthy respect for your… abilities. I have no doubt that I'm enjoying my last days on earth, though don't think that I' won't try to extend them." Valjean sighed slightly.

"However, the information I have must be passed on. I've spread it to several of my friends and fellow operatives who unforunately do not have a great deal of clout, but now I give them to you in the hopes that you'll see past whatever smoke is thrown in your eyes. Your director is not to be trusted; you must give this information to those above her."

Looking deep into Max's eyes, Valjean added: "Our desires are one, to protect the sovereignty of the United States of America."

"I have no way to confirm your story before…" Max hesitated, this all felt so wrong.

"I know. The disk I want you to have is sitting on my desk. You can pick it up on your way to the balcony." He gave her a knowing smile. "I'm glad it was you Clarissa. Something about you is more… human than your fellows, or maybe that's just wistful thinking on my part."

Valjean turned around as if to reach for something. When he turned around Max was gone, as was the disk.

It was one small victory, and he couldn't help but hope that it was a good omen.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**X5 base of operations...**

"All I'm saying is that we should check out his story," Max argued, for the what seemed like the dozenth time to her teammates. "All we need to do is get in touch with Biggs and pull back the team for a day or two."

"Max," Troy barked. "We have no way of safely contacting him that won't blow his cover. Besides, by the time we got to him it would probably be too late."

"So we just let a possible innocent man die?" Max questioned. The disbelief and disgust in her voice made Troy's insides squirm. He hated when she looked at him like that.

"You know CO," Alec added, "I've heard of the NLU before. Nasty group that isn't hesitant to use fire-power."

"We could at least try." Max pushed.

Troy looked at his team and summed up the risk. "No, we need to keep our eye on the prize. We can investigate the information Max gained later."

"When he's dead," spat Max.

"That's enough, you have your orders. Dismissed for tonight." Troy commanded.

Max didn't respond but gave him a defiant look before leaving the room.

"How come I know she's not going to listen," sighed Troy, watching the door Max had just departed from.

Alec laughed, but it was Brin who answered: "Because she's a stubborn ass."

The two men looked at her in shock.

"But we should make sure she doesn't get it herself blown up in the process," Brin stated, a tiny glimpse of a smile gracing her lips.

"Guess so," Alec added. "It's too nice of an ass for that – don't you agree CO?"

Troy didn't respond to Alec's barb, but stated: "Get the gear."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max attempted to blend herself in the with the night. She needed to get to Biggs before sunup. Plans had been expedited after Brin's recon mission and orders had been given before Max had even gotten back from her "party".

She knew Biggs was stationed next to Valjean's "safe" house. It was Brin's discovery of this place which had sped up the process. As she approached the building she caught the distinctive smell of explosive material. Biggs' instructions were to detonate the charges when Valjean entered the house.

Max decided to check Valjean's house before going over to Biggs; she didn't want him to be blown up 10 seconds earlier than she could prevent.

Unfortunately, she was three seconds too late. Valjean had entered the house moments before Max had turned the corner and Biggs was initiating the charges as she peaked through the window.

She had only a second to realize what was happening; however, before she could even respond, strong arms grabbed her and with the speed of an X5 pulled her far enough away from the blast to live.

Looking up at Troy, whose body had shielded her from the majority of the heat, Max could only cough her thanks as fire filed her lungs. If alone, the two would have been hard pressed to pull their battered bodies away from the continued conflagration, but seemingly out of nowhere Brin and Alec appeared to drag them farther from the flames.

It hadn't gone as anticipated, but the mission was completed and Max wasn't dead. Of that, at least, she supposed she should be grateful.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**I should be kicked for going this long without reuniting our hero and heroine. If you're still with me, thank you for going this far on faith. While I might be envious from time to time of the number of reviews the MA folks get, I'm always touched by the insightfulness and generosity of my ML reviewers. Thank you, it is appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 10

**This is chapter is particularly long, and not my best, but I decided I couldn't go any further without some ML interaction. So, here it is, the linking chapter to the two storylines.**

**Fogle Towers…**

A quick peek into Logan Cale's office would have revealed nothing extraordinary to the casual observer. Like most days, the handsome cyberjournalist was seated at his computer staring at information on his monitor. And like usual, he was silent and still.

However, this wasn't an average day. The longer an observer remained within Eyes Only's computer room, the more evident it would become that something was in fact wrong with this scene. Logan Cale was too quiet and too still, as if what he was looking at was something so striking that it caused the usually cool crusader to freeze in shock. Minutes ticked by and still he sat there perfectly static, his eyes never wavering from the spot on the screen to which his eyes were glued. It was as if he were afraid it would disappear.

Logan was not fine. Although outside he remained still, his heart was pounding and his blood was pulsing as he stared at one word, and particularly one letter.

The word was "she".

For the past 28 hours Logan had been systematically and meticulously running through Madame X's e-mail account. After he had carefully read each one, he would copy and cross reference it for future use, making sure to jot down any information he felt was particularly relevant.

He began his search starting from one year ago and was working his way up to the most recent exchanges. He was nearing the end when he ran across the heart-stopping word.

Shortly after the date of their attack on Manticore, Logan had begun to run into e-mails, from Renfro to the committee reassuring them of Manticore's survival and bragging of the success of recapturing one of the lost X5s. It was political spin, a way of trying to make the bad seem like a positive, and Logan had to admit, she was good at it.

Nevertheless, it was obvious that the committee was far from convinced and had put her on a short leash. He was shocked when he saw the small budget that she had been alloted for their upcoming fiscal year.

He was also intrigued by a number of what seemed to be coded e-mails being sent to a contact in France. Logan wasn't able to tell exactly what they were saying, but even from the few expressions he could easily decode, he was able to understand that there was a mysterious third party linked with Renfro.

In the periodic updates to the committee, Logan would often see reports on, what he thought, was Zack's progress. No barcode number was ever given, but the committee had no need for that knowledge.

They were all glowing reports, along the lines of "The X5 is responding well to psyop evaluations and will be placed on active training duty in two weeks" – but they didn't do anything much to forward the rescue mission except to verify that Zack was indeed still at Manticore a few weeks ago.

Then he read it.

_Team of six X5s will be deployed to France for termination mission. Included in this group is the recently reindoctrinated X5. She has responded well to all evaluations and will be monitored closely to ensure containment._

And then Logan's mind went black. It was only one additional letter, one lonely "s". It could easily be a mistype; a wrong stroke of the key that was sending his heart pumping at a marathon pace.

But if it wasn't a mistake, if it were accurate, it would mean all the difference in the world. It would mean the X5 was Max, or at least could be Max.

Logan searched back through his memory of the e-mails for anything to disqualify that idea. But he was sure that Renfro had talked about only one new soldier who they had been captured from the attack on the genetics lab. There had been no mention of an additional capture and the rest of Max's siblings were safely in contact.

No, Logan figured, if it was indeed a "she" than that she had to be Max. Or at least it should be her.

Since there was no outside observer keeping track of time, it would be difficult to calculate how long Logan sat there, making sure the word was still safely tucked amongst the others; that the elusive piece of hope wasn't going to jump away from the screen when he wasn't looking, and that he had not imaged it or mistaken it.

Finally, he moved his right hand to print the e-mail, and dove into what was left of Madame X's personal account with a new vigor. If Max were alive, he was damn well going to find her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Approaching Sector 9…**

Krit sighed as he looked down at his pager as he paused at a stop light. Logan had paged him again; the third time in an hour. He probably has some important information to relate from Renfro's e-mail account and was attempting to push their scheduled meeting up.

The trouble was Krit was attempting to delay it as long as possible. It's not that he was anxious or anything, but emotions really weren't his bag and, well, the information he held could be construed as emotional.

Therefore, he was waiting for his strike team to assemble. Jondy, of course, would be there and would direct the operation. Syl and Zane would also be spared from their current duties to join. Seth would follow an hour later, once things had cooled off slightly.

But cooled off from what? Anger, excitement, fear? None of them knew how Logan would respond to the information. Krit wasn't sure how he was responding for that matter. Of course he was hopefully, but he was also unsettled by the news. They had no idea how Max had survived, where Zack was, or how to get them out.

The situation also brought home the reality that it had been nearly seven months since the attack on Manticore. Seven months for psyops to do its infernal workings on them, and the unspoken fear amongst the X5s was that even if they physically got their siblings back there was still a question if they would ever truly, mentally have them home.

Leave it to Manticore to make the unexpected survival of a beloved sibling a complicated thing.

Krit shook his head to remove the anger that began to pulsate around his temples. He needed to focus, and concentrate on how to present Logan with this hope, while simultaneously having him recognize the dangers involved.

The trick, Krit figured, was getting him to remain calm long enough for practical decisions to be made.

The problem was none of them, not even Coreen or Jondy, were really in the mood for practicality. The X5s were too used to their own physical superiority to be extremely cautious, and none of them were particularly good at patience, which had long been exhausted.

They all needed to act like soldiers, but currently the idea of ass-kicking was much more appealing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers….**

Logan continued to pace back and forth.

Where the hell was Krit?, he thought.

He'd been paging him for nearly two hours and now the X5 was late for the meeting which Logan had wanted to begin early.

Damn X5s and their world-will-wait-for-me attitude. For once, he had something important to add to their meetings and the X5s were MIA.

They didn't realize it yet, but they had a new enemy: time.

Time would continue to slip by, forcing Logan to think of all the possible reasons he could be wrong. Time would strangle his hope, mangle it, and twist it. It would force him to dwell on the image his brain had begun to conjure of Max trapped in Manticore, with their deranged psyops team probbing into her mind and soul; time would make him ponder and hyper-analyze the politic double speak of Renfro's e-mails as he considered whether or not Max's reindoctrination process had really been a seamless as reported. It would make him…

The staccato knock on the door pulled Logan from this thoughts, and quickly he went to opened it to find Jondy, Krit, Syl, and Zane all waiting in the hall. If Logan didn't know better he'd think the group of young adults looked nervous.

"Lose your pager?" Logan quipped to Krit, who only briefly met his eyes.

"I was busy," He returned, barely acknowledging the sarcasm in Logan's voice. "Besides we couldn't start the meeting until everybody was assembled."

Before Logan could responded, Jondy added: "Well everyone's here now, so why don't we move the living room and begin the briefing?"

Logan nodded and led the way into his apartment. If he was surprised that Zane and Syl were there he didn't say anything.

In truth, he was far too focused on figuring out how to phrase his thoughts.

When everyone was seated, perched, and hovering – Jondy continued: "Logan why don't you begin the meeting and let us know what you found in the director's e-mail."

It had been Jondy's decision to have Logan fill them in on his progress before they dropped the news on him. That way, she figured, if he lost his higher-functioning reasoning capacities they would already have any essential information.

Logan didn't protest, and as he detailed his searched. Jondy noted that he looked jittery and on edge. Two things that didn't correlate with her experience of Logan, and didn't bode well for their news. She saw that her siblings had also made note of his mental state and all four were loath to give him shocking information.

They were so focused on how to prepare him that none of them saw Logan's own bombshell come barreling toward them.

Clearing his throat, Logan concluded his analysis of the data, figuring it would be better to get the concrete information out of the way before he brought up his hunch. For some reason he needed them to believe with him.

"Listen. I know this is going to sound implausible, but what if I told you I found some evidence to suggest that Max isn't dead. That's she alive and at Manticore as we speak."

If he had told them Lydecker had suddenly grown three heads and was leaving them to begin a day-care, they couldn't have looked at him with more surprise.

Figuring that they thought he had lost his mind, Logan pushed forward. "Now I know that sounds absurd. But as I was doing the search of Madame X's e-mail I found this."

He handed them a copy of the e-mail in question, with the central word underlined and highlighted.

"Logan…" Jondy began, unsure of how to handle this unlooked for situation.

"I know. It's just a word," Logan interrupted, determined to get this out. "But I just feel it's true. I know it's not conclusive evidence – but I've felt since the day we left Max's body at Manticore - that she wasn't really dead. That she was out there. I need to look into this, to know for sure."

Logan was embarrassed by his unscientific assessment of the situation, but he refused to look down or be pacified. He knew, somewhere inside him, that this e-mail wasn't a mistake and that it was, in fact, tangible evidence linking him to Max.

"Logan," Jondy continued soothingly, "We believe you."

"You do?" he asked, more surprised by that admission then anything she could have said.

"Yes."

As he examined the expressions of the X5s gathered, looking to meet their disbelief, it began to dawn on him that they weren't looking at him with incredulous stares; they were looking at him with guilty ones.

"You knew." Logan's voice was suddenly very angry.

At first they didn't respond, but the truth was evident in their faces. With barely suppressed fury he asked, "How long? How long have you know Max was trapped in that hell hole and didn't tell me?!"

Three of them bristled at his tone, ready to go head to head with a man who challenged their love for their sister. Jondy, however, retained her perspective, understanding how this must look to him.

"Conclusively? For two hours, less for some of us." She responded calmly, knowing that giving him only short answers would force him to retain control over his emotions to get further ones.

It worked, and Logan's voice became slightly less agitated as he asked, "You have conclusive evidence?"

"Yes. We do. Do you remember the finger prints analysis you set up for Krit?"

He nodded.

"It wasn't Zack we were confirming, it was Max."

Logan didn't answer, but suddenly sat down, looking at Jondy intensely as he willed her to continue.

"We're sorry we didn't tell you immediately Logan," Jondy added. "But we wanted to be sure before we raised your hopes."

"Start from the beginning," he responded, including all four under his gaze.

Zane stepped forward and began.

If they thought Logan would lose his reasoning capabilities, then it was obvious they didn't know him as well as Max. She could have told him that he would respond with penetrating acuity and instantaneous action. That he would get them to do and say things that five minutes before they would have denied being capable of.

But before they knew it, the X5s had given detailed accounts of not only their actions, but their thoughts and feelings as Logan drew them out, searching for any potentially helpful information.

Before they knew it, he had begun planning their next move; maneuvering their plans to expedite the rescue mission.

And before anyone knew it, Logan had shifted from team member to leader, from the presence of one single word and one new, momentous, hope.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore**

To the ordinary ear, the halls of Manticore were nearly silent, with only the faint echo of a dead handler and a few insubordinate soldiers to warn of the oppressive atmosphere that hinted at the impending storm brewing beneath the surface.

To the sensitive X5 ear the thuds of discontent and barely repressed rebellion could be heard thundering down the corridor as rumors of a fourteen year old X6 who had been forced to manually procreate with an ordinary soldier and the dying cries of five nine year old X7s mingled with the murmurs of outrage from the female X5 who would gladly sacrifice their bodies but who were loath to loan their wombs, began to come to the surface.

The X series had been bred to discipline. Their entire lives they had followed orders about military strategy, psyops training, and medical experimentation, but they had also been raised as a unit. Through the sterility of Manticore's halls, life had continued on in a slightly warped, stark, but recognizable manner.

Despite their inhuman qualities, the X7s wanted to live. Despite their docility, the X6s were willing to fight for peace. Despite their orders, the X5s weren't willing to be bred like animals. And what they might withstand when inflicted on their individual persons, they were unwilling to endure being exercised on each other.

So the X7s had secretly taken to hoarding and equally distributing their hormone therapy meds. So the X6s snapped the neck and killed the soldier who had hurt their sister. So several X5 males had endured extreme punish for not breeding with their unwilling partners. Love was something that had never been taught to the X-series, but somehow they made it up as they went along.

This was the environment Max her team returned to after their mission. They had stayed an extra few days in France to allow her and Troy to heal from their injuries. It was nothing major, only a few burns and bruises, but the team left it out their report.

Their intention when they got back was to search for evidence of Renfro's recent activities and to gain knowledge of the committee members identities, so they could decipher who was to be trusted with any incriminating evidence they gained.

However, the Manticore they returned to wasn't the orderly training camp they had left. It was the oppressive lock-box of their youth.

After the murdered soldier had been found, Renfro had ordered the internal surveillance system to be rebooted, and around the clock monitoring of the hallways. In addition, she had ordered that the X6x and X5s retain their individual quarters unless expressly ordered for the breeding program.

There was no way Renfro was going to lose charge of her ward.

The new security measures would make things more difficult, Max internally groaned, as she witnessed the stony faces that all the Xseries were now wearing as she entered the facility. To her knowledge, things were going from bad to worse.

XXXXXXXXX

Fortunately, Max's knowledge wasn't complete.

Her internal sigh of despair had been countered two days prior with an equally fervent shout of triumph that had come from her brother Krit and Logan as the men hacked their way into the now operational camera system.

From their standpoint, they could now watch and plan their attack much more accuracy than before.

The tide had turned.

But Max, of course, had no idea that some extremely blue eyes, the very ones gave Seattle hope, were in fact now blood-shot and bleary from spending that intermittent period, nearly 48 hours, mechanically searching and researching every security frame trying to find her.

She didn't how Jondy had made him several pots of coffee, or how Original Cindy had sat and kept him company; she had no way of knowing that Krit was only moments away from ordering him to take a break when he saw her.

A heart-stopping moment for him as she stepped off the convoy and into the internal reception area, but only a slight flutter at the back of neck as Max surveyed the base and briefly felt that something had changed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Lydecker's base of operation…**

"He's good. I'll give him that." Lydecker commented, as he reviewed the plans before him. "But we could have used this type of out-of-box thinking three months ago."

"He just needed the right inspiration," quipped Zane.

Lydecker had been brought up to date on the recent transactions, minus the presence of the disk – Logan's sighting of Max was the evidence given to confirm her survival. As Krit had quickly realized, the small disk contained a great deal of sensitive and pertinent information that Lydecker would be anxious to get his hands on, and which they were, therefore, unwilling to give.

"Any word from Derek on whether he can persuade his boss to take a tour of the Manticore facility," Lydecker questioned.

Syl answered, "Derek reports that plans for the trip are being set in motion, with the committee member firmly convinced it was her idea."

The X5s smiled, well aware of the unsavory type of coercion that had gone on to bring this about. Derek was the unchallenged master of psychological warfare.

"He says he'll let us know what route her military escort is planning to take her on, so we'll be ready to intercept the convoy and replace them to get our free pass into Manticore." She finished.

"Have you considered how to incapacitate Max in order to transport her," Lydecker continued.

"We don't think that will be necessary," snapped Jondy.

"And why is that soldier?" Lydeckered challenged. "Seven months in psyops is going to take its toll."

"Because," countered Jondy. "We have evidence to suggest that Max hasn't been turned."

The sibling had had many discussions on how Max's acquisition of the disk was a good sign that she had yet to succumb to indoctrination.

That got Lydecker's full attention and glare, "What aren't you telling me?"

It was Syl who stepped in to divert the situation, "Remember what you taught us Donald, my ally is not my friend."

She smirked at him in triumph, knowing she had hit a weak point.

"Fine. But remember I know this world better than anyone. I'm your best chance of getting your siblings out alive."

"Noted." Syl stated.

"And finally," Lydecker finished, ready to hit his own weak point, "Any news on Zack's whereabouts?"

When they didn't meet his eyes, he knew the answer.

"Prepare yourselves for the worst," was all he said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore…**

Less than a week had passed when Max was summoned with her group to the medical wing of Manticore. She did her best not to show her distain when Renfro was there, her eyes alight with a hungry wolfish gleam that Max had long since recognized as the sign she was about to inflict pain.

"Alpha team," Renfro cooed, "glad to see everyone safe and healthy from their mission."

"The objective was accomplished," stated Troy, his emotions closed behind the soldier's door.

"Excellent," she smiled. "I have your next mission already ready to go… As you may be aware, we've taken steps to rectify the lost genetics lab."

Briefly her eyes skidded to Max whose face remained impassive.

"I've met with some unexpected resistance from the X5 camp, and as the lead team I need you to set the example of cooperation and discipline that it is required."

She paused before continuing, drawing out what she knew would be a torturous event to most individuals.

"Therefore I have determined that you will be the next group to begin the fertilization process. I don't think I need to tell you what we'll do to those who disobey command. However, in case there is any question… defiance being exercised on chosen members of your team, rather than directly. In this case X734 and X624 will serve as the receivers for disciplinary action." She smiled again.

"The assignments go as thus. X870 will be linked with a member of the X6 series for artificial insemination and X452 and X494 are assigned manual reproductive duties. X452 you are expected to begin preparatory fertility treatments beginning today and X494 you are to lay off any strenuous activities for next 24 hours… is that understood?" Renfro's voice was as soft as ever, but the devil was just behind the eyes.

At first, no one answered, but within three heat-beats Troy stepped up. "Yes ma'am."

"Very good." Renfro commented before sweeping out of the room.

What she failed to notice was the murderous stare of X624 that followed her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Seattle, same day. **

"So we're clear on how this is going down," Logan asked.

After months of inactivity, the mission had shaped up quickly. The "visit" which had been initiated by Derek was happening, to Logan's knowledge, in three days. And the five X5s were about to leave on their way to intercept the committee member's "protective unit" before they met up with her. They would then proceed to Manticore with clearance passes and find and grab Max – and hopefully Zack – before anyone was the wiser.

"Yeah. We're good Logan." Jondy reassured him.

All of this had been Logan's suggestion; his plans. But as the week had worn on, the X5s had grown increasingly concerned about his ability to remain in control.

Logan spent every free moment watching the monitors, tracking Max. Max's time today in the medical ward – though it had been unclear what she had been doing there and the actual procedure had been mercifully hidden from view – had nearly made Logan lose it. Two plates, a mug, and what was probably an expensive vase had all bitten the dust as he had banged around the kitchen, unable to watch.

While Logan might be able to withstand huge amounts of stress and pain on his own, the X5s realized he was incapable of watching others suffer – especially if that person was Max.

It was his Achilles heel and it had convinced them to remove Logan from the combat equation. The mission was actually going down in two days, and it would be Krit who would direct them from the monitors.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore, next night.**

Max was angry and sore from the invasive procedures she had to endure for the past two days. Her only payback was that her freak show body, which had always given her such trouble, was also stumping the doctors who were now preparing her for conception.

Ironic how much her "flaws" had protected her recently.

Max had long suspected that her heat cycles corresponded with her fertility, and for once this seemed to be something in her favor. The doctors were having trouble stimulating ovulation, and thus had given her a day of reprieve from Renfro's orders.

Max knew that she was long-overdue for estro-cycle, but given her recent heart transplant and brain surgery, she figured her body had decided to skip the reproductive cycle in favor or recovery and survival.

Nevertheless, she knew that she wouldn't be able to delay forever and she needed to decide what she was going to do when Alec showed up in her bunk. Currently, kicking everyone's ass sounded good, but she'd settle for snapping Renfro's neck.

Deciding that she would at least have a few moments to relax, Max slipped into her inner mind, visiting her safe place and enjoying the sense of freedom, love, and happiness the enveloped her.

She was with 'him' when the knock on her door woke her from her fantasies. His smell was surrounding her, reminding her of goodness and comfort and breathless anticipation. Not for the first time, she had struggled to try and see his face – but like usual it was hidden from her.

It was this lost memory, more than anything else that bothered Max. She wanted to know what he had looked like. If just the ghost of his memory could conjure such powerful emotions, she reasoned, than what must the full vision be like? Once or twice she had even asked herself if she had loved this man – if once upon a time a revved up girl like herself might have been able to find someone to care about in this screw up world.

She half hoped so.

But the other half reasoned how dangerous love was, and how unlikely for someone like her. Besides – the man in her memory was probably ugly or old or married. Otherwise, why wasn't she with him now?

Nevertheless, Max couldn't help but image and dream up scenarios of who he might have been. More often than not she settled on a chef, remembering all the delicious smells that her subconscious dredged up, but she'd also thought of him as a mechanic, accountant, computer analyst, doctor, journalist, teacher. Really anything that was mundane or "ordinary" – for some reason, she hoped he wasn't a soldier.

It was with all this in mind that she awoke to hear her cell being unlocked.

To her surprise, it was Troy not Alec who entered, accompanied by a regular soldier.

"You've got one hour," commented the soldier, who despite his professional manner, let his eyes leer over Max's body.

When the door slammed shut, Max put her annoyance with the "ordinary" away and turned her attention back to Troy.

"Hey, what you are doing here? Where's Alec?" she asked, confused.

Maintaining what could only be described as a military rigidity, Troy sternly replied: "He's taken over my duties for the mission… and I his."

"Duties?" Max asked. "You can't mean Renfro's twisted breeding program?"

Troy didn't answer at first, but turn to examine the room.

"Renfro doesn't care about which genetic codes mix; just that they do. So whether it's Alec or me, it will achieve the same objective."

He wasn't meeting her eyes, and continued in the same measured voice.

"Objective?" Max sneered. Another man might have recognized her tone as dangerous, but Troy wasn't particularly apt at reading human emotion.

"Her assignment was arbitrary, it's not important to her. But…" Troy paused, turning to look Max in the eyes for the first time. "it's important to me."

Max stepped away from him slightly, unnerved by the unexpected direction of this conversation.

"Max – I know it's not ideal, but I would like to be with you. And if I have to readjust command's orders to do so, then that's a small price to pay." Troy stated.

His posture was still rigid, but there was genuine emotion behind his eyes. In some way, he cared for her.

"You can't be serious." Max murmured, flabbergasted by his worldview.

Troy frowned. Hadn't he just told her that he was? What didn't she believe – that he…felt something.

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but the way I see you, Max, is different from the rest of our team. It's more… personal." Troy attempted to elaborate. He wasn't use to expressing himself.

He was sincere, Max realized, and honestly saw nothing wrong with their current situation.

"Troy…" Max began, also stumbling to find words. "You can't possibly want it to be like this. We're talking about fathering a child here. A child that who knows what they'll do with him or her. Can you really live with that?"

Troy's frown deepened. "It's our orders."

"It's _my_ body," Max snapped back, "It would be _our_ child."

"We're soldiers Max, we don't have the luxury of family." Troy responded.

She wasn't sure why, but the words seemed to bring up an image of Zack. And that inexplicably hardened her resolve.

"Maybe, but I'm not a breeding mare," Max spat back.

"You don't have a choice," Troy's tone was now emotionless, the soldier's defense walls fully operation.

"And what you going to do about it," Max asked, getting in his face. "Try and force me?"

Their staring match was broken off by Troy.

"Is it me? Would you prefer Alec?" Troy asked, the insecurity barely perceptible behind the surface.

"What? No." Max quickly responded. "I …It's not you, Troy. It's them. They're wrong. This is wrong. I won't do it. I'm sorry."

He looked down at her, hoping to gleam something about her emotions for him, but remained clueless.

"I see."

But he obviously didn't.

"Troy, if things were different…" Max began, trying to quickly process how she felt about him.

"But they're not." He interrupted. "I won't push things soldier. Get some rest; we'll need to deal with this tomorrow."

Making his way to the door, Troy knocked.

The same soldier opened the cell

"Done already," he asked. "Personally I would have taken my time with that one."

Max saw Troy's arm move to grab the soldier's neck and intercepted it midway there.

"Let it go," she pleaded.

Jerking his hand away from her, he averted his eyes from both of them and quickly left the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore, the next morning…**

Derek walked down the hauntingly familiar corridors of Manticore, attempting to ignore the painful flashbacks that threatened his focus and his attention from the nervous middle-aged committee woman who walked beside him.

Simultaneously, he listened to Krit's voice in his hidden ear piece as he direct them toward Max's location on the base.

Behind them trailed the committee woman's personal "bodyguards", four of his siblings – Seth, Coreen, Zane, and Jondy poising as soldiers – a ruse they were particularly good at.

Steering the committee woman wasn't difficult. Although she attempted to seem confident, she was actually terrified of being in the location of the "sub-human" soldiers, her bravado betrayed by her sweaty palms and rapid heart-rate which Derek could see pounding in her neck.

She had come on an inflated self-mission of "looking the devil in the face." Or what Derek recognized was a political play to attempt to get more standing within her elected base.

As the weeks had passed, she had gradually placed more and more confidence in her attractive young assistant. Now he was just exercising the fruition of his influence.

"Alice, don't you think we should head to the main training grounds. Maybe we can meet up with the director there."

"Yes. I was just about to suggest that myself." Alice Purdue agreed. "Lieutenant, please take me to the main training yard."

The high-ranking soldier who had been given the assignment to lead the tour of this uppity civilian until Renfro could join them, wasn't pleased with her commands.

"I'm sure the director has a schedule." He attempted hint that her suggestion was unwelcome. However, his condescending tone made the insecure woman bristle.

"That maybe so Lieutenant, but as a member of the oversight committee I have every right to examine whatever part of the facility, whenever I want to see it."

Derek smiled at her, in order to assure her of her conduct. He couldn't have chosen two better personalities to play off one another if he tried.

"This way then madam."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore courtyard…**

The members of Alpha team were gathered in the yard, with Renfro pacing in front of them. It hadn't taken her long to find out about Max's actions, and she was out for blood.

"It was my insubordination ma'am." X452 stated to Renfro. "I chose not to follow orders."

"That maybe so 452, but I'm afraid it's your sister who's going to pay the price." Renfro answered.

"With all due respect ma'am that won't rectify the situation," Max boldly responded. Her eyes remained forward, her voice deferential, but she was done with following orders.

"That so 452?" Renfro asked softly. "Are you challenging me?"

"No ma'am!"

"I think you are," Renfro continued. "Well then, I guess we'll have to make sure you obey orders."

"Field commander, come here," Renfro called to the ordinary soldier who was stationed nearby. "I want you and your company to escort 452 and 494 to the medical ward. Instruct the medical team to remove 452's clothes and strap her to the gurney. I then want 494 and a member of the non-X series insemination team to copulate with her. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am," the soldier saluted.

Turning back to Max, Renfro sneered, "When are you going to learn your just meat to me?"

Instantly Max had dropped into her fight stance, but before either Renfro or the commander could respond – Troy had stepped between them – his body also tensing in anticipation of a confrontation.

"Have something to say X624?" Renfro stated, obviously surprised by his intrusion.

From the corner of her eyes, Renfro could see both 734 and 494 coming to stand beside Max, also readying their bodies for battle.

She had pushed too far, too fast and the psychological cord had snapped.

However, before anything could happen, a voice called to her from across the courtyard.

"Director! Chairwoman Purdue here to see you."

Giving the X5s a look that let them know they weren't finished, she stated: "Dismissed for now."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore hallway….**

Max's emotions were riding high. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Not only had Renfro attempted to condemn her to military-condoned rape, but her company – her family, she thought – had stepped up to save her.

They would beat the bitch yet.

Perhaps it was her distracting thoughts that kept her from immediately noting the presence that was following her down the hallway, but before she got back to her bunk – she recognized the body shadowing her moves.

When she made it her cell, she quickly dashed to the side, hiding herself in the door, so that she spring on the body that entered.

The man fought back. Obviously an X series thought Max, as they circled one another.

"Max!" he whispered, dropping his stance slightly, "It's me Zane. We've come to take you home."

X452 knew he was telling the truth. It was indeed Zane, and immediately she knew what she had to do.

"Zane?" she questioned, dropping her arms to her side.

"Yeah Maxie, it's me." He answered, also lower his arms and taking a step toward her.

It only took a second, but instantly she was one him, attempting to subdue him. Zane responded quickly, but not quickly enough. Max gave him a high kick to the shoulder – sending him smashing into the opposing wall and nearly knocking him unconscious.

Just as he got his footing, Max knocked his feet out from under him and attempted to grab both his arms in order to hold him long enough to call for the guards.

She never got a chance.

From behind her, Coreen quickly grabbed her by the back of the head, applying just enough pressure to stop the oxygen flow. Zane came up and held her, until the blackness claimed her and she passed out.

"Sorry sis, but I don't think your thinking too clearly right now," Coreen commented.

"What do we do now?" Zane asked, obviously unnerved by the encountered.

"Get her back to van and hope like hell that the others have found Zack," Coreen replied.

As they ran through the halls, supporting the oblivious Max, the two forced themselves on concentrating on the here and now.

What would come after, well that was anybody's guess.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Seattle, Lydecker's base…**

"How is she?" Coronel Lydecker asked as he watched Derek laid her on the couch.

All seven of the X5s had made it back to their base, largely unscathed, but still disappointed at not finding Zack. "She's…okay," murmured Derek, as he placed a pillow under her head. "No permanent physical damage."

"What aren't you telling me" demanded Lydecker, well aware that none of the seven were willing to meet his steady gaze. The group paused, uncertain whether they wanted to allow this man into their private troubles; hating him at the moment, not unfairly, for the place they would forever associate with him. They glanced at one another, Seth shook his head, but finally Jondy's even stare – which Lydecker knew to mean, "if he can help her, we need to tell him" – won out.

Coreen was the one to reply: "She fought us."

Lydecker let out a sigh; this development was unfortunate, but not unforeseen.

With the intention of lightening the mood, Zane added, "She would have kicked my ass too if Coreen hadn't stepped in." His smile quickly fell when he realized none of his siblings were willing to be diverted.

The silence stretched out, no one spoke; they were lost in their own dark memories of the place that haunted them.

Finally Jondy pulled herself far enough into the present to ask: "So what do we do with her now?"

Clearing his throat, so he could get their attention, Lydecker began: "We begin the de-orientation process. She might be Manticore-line now, but there are certain parts of her past life that haven't been compromised. Specifically, in regards to the civilians in her life. Cale perhaps."

"Are you crazy!" piped up Seth, "If Max really has been….compromised, she'll turn Logan over to Manticore. A gift wrapped package called Eyes Only."

It was the first time anyone had said Max's name, and it seemed to release them from the horror hanging over them.

"No she won't" said Syl. "If she'd passed on that information, Logan would have been brought in weeks ago."

"What if they were monitoring him… and us," replied Krit.

"Then we wouldn't have gotten out of there tonight. You all know they weren't expecting us," answered Syl.

"Still," jumped in Seth, "how do we know that she won't freak out on Logan? Do something she'd regret like running away, or take him with her back to Manticore."

"You mean like Maxie clubbing Logan over the head and dragging him back to her lair," snorted Zane.

The image was humorous enough to receive a few chuckles.

"No, like hurting him, what if they convinced her he was dangerous? A threat somehow." Seth countered.

"Unlikely… but possible," replied Lydecker. "Well kids. I'm not suggesting you let your sister go to her boyfriend's unsupervised. We're not exactly sure what Manticore did to her, but chances are if they followed standard procedure, they probably manipulated her memory of him in some way to make Max lose hope. Planted a memory of his death… or personal betrayal in her mind. Nothing that would cause her to suddenly decide to kill him. But, you should monitor all exits and keep an auditory tap on until we see how she responds. Someone should also go to pick up her friend…Cindy, just in case Manticore has turned Max against Cale."

"Lovely place Manticore… manipulating people to think their loved ones are dead…" muttered Zane.

"Should we tell Logan?" asked Jondy.

Lydecker shrugged. "You could, but Max is smart and trained, she'll sense any false pretenses, false emotions. Put him on his guard and you risk Max not believing him. Yes it might be cruel, but Cale's spontaneous emotions are our best weapon."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers, 1 a.m.**

Logan's sleep was light at best.

He knew he needed the rest, so he would be fresh for the mission tomorrow, ready to get Max back. But therein lay the problem. In his over-excited imagination he kept running through all the possible scenarios that could happen. And all the different ways Max could be. Was she hurt, hungry, lonely? How much had she suffered? Would she have succumbed to the brutal indoctrination process?

In his darker moments, he wondered what exactly they'd done to punish her. Her thoughts on waking up, knowing she was trapped in her own personal hell. He wondered if they'd finally damaged her so much that he'd never be able to reach her again; that her heart and mind would be locked up like a fortress against those that loved her.

Sometimes he would sit up berating himself. Wondering how he didn't realize that she was still alive and breathing in this world. How he couldn't have anticipated Lydecker's blow to his head so he could have taken Max's body with him to the van? How he could possibly let seven months go by without rescuing her.

During what Logan had come to deem his "selfish" moments, he would wonder how she would respond to seeing him again. Would she be angry with him for not coming sooner? Happy to see him, since he must remind her of her previous life? Would she let him cook for her one of his "culinary miracles" – the thought of which had been enough to motivate him to clean out his long-neglected frig and restock his barren pantry. Would she want to sit with him on rainy nights, talking, laughing, and playing chess as they once so regularly had?

Despite the myriad of ideas that ran through Logan's mind since learning Max was alive, he never indulged himself on speculating about their possible romantic relationship. The thought was too sacred, too fragile to handle. Just to get her home, to see her cared for – that was all his fearful heart could dare to wish for.

Nevertheless, tonight as he was drifting off to sleep – heart sick for her; filled with equal parts anxiety and hope - his mind wondered to their last embrace. He remembered the vulnerability he heard in her confession, her decision to let him in. Within her words, Logan heard everything he'd ever suspected Max to be scared of. He heard her fear of losing control, her fear of never having a normal life, her doubt in her own humanity. He heard her terror of Manticore breaking down every wall she'd every constructed between them, of those forces beyond her grasp. At that moment, he would have given everything he possessed for Max to see herself as he did.

He'd also heard other whispered words just below the surface: that she trusted him enough to let him see her this way, that she wanted his comfort, and that she felt guilty at being with another man.

If Logan had spent a moment wandering over the erotic implications of "heat" and another heart-beat wanting to rip apart the man who'd touched her, it was quickly seceded by the desire to comfort her – to let her know how strong and beautiful he thought she was. For once, she only ran away to the window.

In his relief at being able to go to her, to comfort her as a whole man could, Logan committed an act of pure blasphemy; praising to the heavens the device which allowed him to walk to her. Fortunately, the gods have an odd sense of humor, interrupting and reducing Logan before her eyes the moment he set out to save her. Instead, as she leaned over him, watching his weakness and dispelling it with the words he had always needed her to say; they saved each other.

One moment more, and Logan was able to experience a true heaven. Soft lips, breathy sighs. And with that cherished memory being played in his head, Logan drift into a light, dream-filled sleep.

XXXXXXXXX

Less than three hours had passed when Logan was awoken by an insistent tapping. In his groggy state, he was having trouble locating the source of the sound. When the noise refused to stop, Logan sat up in bed and reached for his glass, determining the noise must be coming from the outer room, he then reached for his wheel chair to investigate. As he went to grab the door handle, Logan was startled by the texture of paper that met with his hand. Throwing on the lights, Logan had to read the words three times before any meaning sunk in:

Logan,

We decided to get the party started a day early; hope you don't mind.

Zane

P.S. It might take her a little while to awake; it's been a long night.

Still bewildered, but now shaking in anticipation, Logan yanked open the door; for once grateful that his legs couldn't register the pain it might have felt when he unintentionally slammed his knee with the door.

Wheeling into the living room, Logan frantically scanned his apartment. The only thing he could hear was the blood racing through his body, his heart pumping wildly to keep up. Looking again, wheeling from one side of the room to the other, Logan finally calmed down enough to register the darkness and stillness of the night. Surely, nothing like he had been imaging had happened, couldn't happen; not without sirens and noises, frantic yelling and close calls. One did not simply go to bed and find one's dream neatly wrapped and left on one's doorstep.

And yet… as his breath and heart paused, Logan registered that the tapping had stopped, and the note was still clenched in his hand. A whispered thought seemed to echo inside himself as he turned.

Softly and slowly now, Logan wheeled himself into the living room. Not daring to look round, Logan kept his eyes facing forward staring unseeingly out the window. He finally paused when he came parallel with the long couch that also faced the window. And gradually, with just his eyes, as if he were afraid of scaring off a dream, Logan turned to look at the couch.

Resting his eyes on her for only a moment, Logan took in the lounging form, strewn across his couch; the dark hair and honey skin. His eyes snapped back up, unable fully to process what he saw, but aware that his breath had become labored.

Once again he looked, and this time he saw the lovely, familiar face of his memory, with the same lush lips and strong, stubborn brow, the same perfect cheek bones. She was resting on her stomach with her face turned out toward him, dark, long hair tumbled partially in her face. But to Logan's increasingly blurry eyes, the most conspicuously wonderful sight was the rise and fall movement of her back, as Logan watch it fill in and out with life.

Pushing his eyelids together in order to remove the annoying watery drops that threatened to impede his view, Logan's voice came rushing forth in one deep, rough: "Max!"

He attempted to go to her, and was confused by his body's lack of response, only belatedly realizing he wasn't wearing the exo-skeleton that would allow him to move his lower body. Forgetting his paralysis wasn't something that often happened to Logan anymore, and his lungs let out a quick huff of derision at his attempt to defy nature. But quickly, he forgot everything else in his desire to go to her, make sure she was real and not some starvation inspired mirage.

He wheeled over to her side and hesitantly at first, lowered his fingertips to her cheek. Just lightly touching, feeling if it were warm.

"Max."

Moving his fingers to her hair, Logan gently pulled back the errant strands, tucking them behind her ears and noticing how much longer it had grown, how the curl had disappeared. More surely now, Logan began caressing her face: stroking her cheek, her mouth, her brow.

He didn't want to wake her, he just needed to touch her; couldn't bear not to. Every cell in him was yearning to be closer to her, to hold her. Unable to comprehend a reason why he shouldn't, Logan quickly transferred his body to an empty space next to her head on the couch.

Tenderly he lifted her, using one hand to pull her head up against his chest, the other to bring her body closer, in an upright position. He buried his face in her hair, smelling it, nuzzling it. His other hand chastely stroked her shoulder, running up and down her arm, and in soothing circles.

He felt the slightest shutter of wakefulness pass through her body. The movement caused a corresponding shudder in Logan. In that moment he realized how utterly he had missed her, his best friend; her absence seemed nearly unbearable as he waited for her to wake. Logan was incredibly excited at the thought of her voice and presence – he couldn't wait to tell her about everything she'd missed in the past seven months.

Reverently, he lifted her head from his chest, placing it on his shoulder so he could look into her face. The eyes were still closed, her body still warm and pliant in his arms. As he examined her features, her 

beautiful face, both familiar and exotic, and those amazing lips she had allowed him to kiss, his body began to suffuse with heat. He wanted so many things at that moment.

"Max," he moaned softly.

He contented himself by placing soft kisses on her brow and cheeks. Gradually he felt her stir again. "Max." He saw the eyelids tremble. One small blink, and Logan watched her eyes open. They seemed placid and yet coherent; he saw that she noted his presence, though she didn't move to speak.

Logan couldn't help it, "Max," he whispered as he leaned in and placed his lips on her own. He felt her lips tremble in response, before moving with his. He moaned deep in his throat, and pulled her slightly tighter to him; all he could comprehend was her responding mouth – moving more languidly then his own, but reacting none the less.

His level of arousal spiked quickly, but Logan responded by gentling the kiss, not letting himself forgot that she had just spent seven disorienting months at Manticore. Finally needing to see her eyes more than to touch her lips, Logan moved away. Both of his hands were cupping her face, as her now alert eyes roamed his. Logan once more worshipfully whispered her name. "Max."

Something clicked in Max's eyes as she jerked away from his grasp.

"Max, are you okay? May I get you anything?" Logan tried not to flinch at her response, and refrained from reaching for her.

He needed to be patient he reminded himself, until he could be sure how she was. It might take her weeks or months before she'd feel comfortable with him again.

She didn't respond to his inquest, simply turned her head to examine her surroundings. Something about her body language, made Logan feel like something was deeply, terrifyingly wrong. "Max?"

The use of her name made her eyes snap back to his, and Logan had the distinct impression that she was summing him up, determining if he was a threat, and how best to dispose of him if he proved to be so.

"Nice place you got here; not exactly the sort of lair you'd expect from a guy who has a thing for unconscious girls." Her voice was laced with sarcastic distain, and felt like a slap across the face.

"Max?..." Logan asked, attempting to keep the panic from his voice.

"So you keep saying, but you got anything else than my name to go on?"

It was too much, the look of indifference that seemed to dominant her beloved features. Logan reached for her with no more coherent a thought than to force her to acknowledge him.

She easily sidestepped his advance.

"No offense," she sneered, lifting herself off the couch, offense clearly implied. "But I usually prefer my men a little more upright if you know what I mean." Her eyes boldly running up and down his wheelchair.

It hurt, there was no denying it. Logan felt like every exposed feeling was being raked over with nails; it was every self-conscious nightmare he'd had during their months together had suddenly come to life – her rejection hurting just as much as if she'd never told him he was her family.

Logan struggled to maintain his equanimity, as he transferred back to the chair, even as the heat rose in his checks.

Hurt laced his voice.

"I'm not trying to hit on you Max. Far be it for a mere mortal to hit on a revved up super-girl like yourself, but I assume after seven months at Manticore even a transgenic soldier could use a reprieve."

"How the hell do you know about Manticore?!" Max demanded, her eyes now filled with suspicion.

"Max," Logan drew out her name, "Don't you know who I am?"

She cocked her eyebrow, neither denying nor confirming his question.

"Don't you remember me? Us?" Logan demanded.

The earnestness of his voice reached her and, softer now, she answered, "No, should I?"

He couldn't answer, it hurt too much. Everything hurt, his heart, his body – even his mind throbbed with the reality. He turned away slightly. He needed to look away from her; his stubborn body wanted so desperately to fold her into him, and was unable to understand why it shouldn't. His mind was crying out previously repressed demons about his unworthiness. And his heart – well…

She seemed to sense his pain, and unconsciously tried to fix it.

"Hey, maybe if you remind me of where we met, maybe I could place you. I have a bit of photographic memory," Max attempted to sooth. "You do seem kinda familiar…"

Before she could finish her thought, Logan spun back around in his chair, his eyes blazing. Max felt pierced by the intensity of the gaze, pinned to the spot.

Logan's heart was hammering madly and he was furious. Place him!… place… him!! He wasn't sure what, but he was going to do something to make sure she did a hell of a lot more than place him.

Logan wasn't entirely sure what that was, but before he put together a more conscious thought, he had wheeled over to her and pulled her into his lap. Even as he angled her lips to meet his, intent on ravaging her mouth until she remembered, the door was thrown open, and a pissed off Original Cindy followed by an exasperated Syl barged into Logan's apartment.

"Dammit girl! Are you trying to give the man a complex?" Cindy sassed at her. "I thought we'd already gotten passed that."

At the sound of the door opening, Max had shoved off from Logan's lap, angry with herself for letting him pull her close.

"And who exactly do you think you are?" Max asked back, giving as much attitude as this woman. Obviously, someone had been listening in on the conversation.

Her words did more damage than she anticipated, because the woman responded by opening and closing her mouth in shock.

"Sorry Logan," murmured Syl. "I couldn't stop her."

"You were listening?" he asked, almost grateful to have another avenue to direct his ire.

"Yeah. She fought us," Syl gestured toward Max.

"Syl?" Max wagered, finally recognizing her sister. Despite the circumstances she couldn't keep the delight from her voice. She had missed them so very much, and seeing Zane had nearly caused her to forget about needing to restrain him.

"Hey sis." Syl smiled. "Sorry to crash the reunion, but we were worried."

"Who's we?" Max asked.

Syl hesitated before answering. "Your siblings."

"And…" Max pressed.

"Original Cindy here."

"And…"

"Me." Donald Lydecker responded before entering the apartment.

It took only a few seconds for all chaos to break loose.

"Murderer!" Max hollered, and jumped to strangle him.

She got her hands around his neck before Syl and Krit, who had followed Lydecker up could pull her off. Immediately the rest of the siblings began to come out of the woodwork.

Seth and Coreen entered from the skylight. Zane and Derek entered from the guest room. Jondy followed Krit in only steps behind.

"Calm down baby sister," Krit murmured to the struggling Max.

"You don't understand," Max nearly yelled, never ceasing trying to free herself, "He killed Tinga!"

The stunned silence followed that pronouncement.

"No Max," Jondy finally answered. "It wasn't Lydecker. It was Renfro."

That caused Max to pause.

"He's lying to you," she said more quietly, less assured.

"I'm not." Lydecker stated.

"Shut up. Traitor." Max fired at him.

Shaking his head, Lydecker looked at Krit and Syl.

"We need to take time to evaluate."

They looked at each other, obviously loathed to do what they were about to, but finally Krit reached out and applied pressure to a spot on Max's neck.

Again, she slumped down, unconscious.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**I would love some feedback.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN 1: At the comments of a few reviewers, I've decided to move my story rating down to a T. Knowing me, it will not stay there for long, but as of now, everything I've written seems to be fairly clean. If you don't agree please let me know.**

**AN 2: In case anyone is wondering, Zack is indeed dead in my second season. It's not that I didn't love the character, because I did – but, I have a real problem with him surviving a bullet, point blank to the head. I mean if they couldn't save Max from a collapsed artery without a transplant than I find it difficult to believe they could stabilize Zack after a two gunshot wounds and a removed heart. I feel the show lost some sort of emotional credibility when it offered a lame panacea to eradicate the consequences of such an emotional event. Okay I'm done with the analysis/rant – here's the next installment. **

**Fogle Towers…**

Long minutes passed after Max's outburst and subsequent restrainment. Her words and actions hung over the penthouse's occupants incapacitating their bodies and breaking their hearts. Only Lydecker seemed poised.

The stunned silence in the room was finally broken by an enraged Logan who was furious at their tactics in containing her. It took all of Jondy's diplomacy to get Logan to calm down enough to see that they needed Max completely submissive until they could get her secured. She had finally asked him if he wanted Max to run back to Manticore, before Logan settled down enough to see the wisdom of their actions.

Ultimately, with Coreen spouting orders, they had managed to get Max secured in Logan's guest bedroom – in restraints - and ready for the psychological evaluation Derek, Jondy, and Krit would need to do to establish what exactly had caused the memory loss.

In the mean time, Lydecker had been sent back to his base, and the other X5s had deployed to keep up various loose ends in order to ensure their safety

Only Cindy remained immobile, as Logan purposely strode over to his work area, intent on losing his mind in work.

Everything seemed preternaturally still after such an event. And Cindy couldn't help but be reminded of a hospital waiting room where the family members waited to hear if their loved one would live or die.

Except in this case, the siblings were also the doctors and police officers, and no one seemed to get it that they should be stunned by grief. The only sounds Original Cindy heard for nearly an hour were Logan's keystroke, which annoyed her enough to consider going over and smacking the man until he behaved normally.

Then, after a while, they began to hear the murmur of voices. OC strained to hear Max's amid her siblings, and despite everything, the sound was somehow comforting.

From her vantage point, she could also see Logan straining to pick up every note of the indistinct conversation. After what seemed to be hours, but was really only 45 minutes, Cindy left her place in the living room and walked into Logan's office. He heard her coming, but still tensed when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

Logan wanted to be left alone, but as he looked up at Original Cindy's tear streaked face he was glad she was there.

It was obvious what she wanted from him: "I…" but before he could get anything out Logan's voice cracked slightly and he turned back to the screen.

"She's going to be okay, boo. And you know she didn't mean any of that smack she was spouting," OC stated with as much attitude as she could muster. "Girl is just confused is all."

Logan looked back at her, his expression pained. Whatever he would have said was lost, however, when Krit finally came out of the room, his expression unreadable.

"Sit down," he commanded, "this is going to take a while.

XXX

The two looked at Krit intently, waiting for his prognosis, but when he hesitated a moment too long, Logan found himself out of patience.

He snapped at the X5: "Dammit! What the hell did Manticore do to her?!"

His emotions raw from Max's rejection of him, Logan needed an outlet, preferably the source that had ruined his long-dreamt of reunion, and he needed information to do that.

Unable to meet Logan's pain-filled eyes, Krit reluctantly stated: "It's not so much what Manticore did to her, but what Maxie did to herself."

Both Cindy and Logan jumped a little at that, and Logan started: "What the hell do you…"

Stopping him before he could continue, Krit began: "Listen… Max was trapped there for months; do you have any idea how many ways they would try to make her talk? Not just torture either – mind manipulation; false projection of images, of friends, people Max would think she could trust. Max must have known we wouldn't get to her in time… if ever. In her effort to protect us, she would have forced herself to forget everything she thought they could trace back to us, and to you."

"How is that possible…" Logan stopped for a second, remembering. "Didn't Zack use something like that?"

Krit nodded: "Yeah when he was recaptured Zack used the same technique, but less effectively."

"Zack was able to reverse the process, then, so could Max!"

The hope in Logan's voice was palpable, but after not receiving an immediate confirmation to this statement, Logan tried again, in a low voice he asked, "It isn't permanently gone?"

"Hell no," piped in Cindy, "no way my girl is just going to forget us point blank."

Smiling at Cindy's faith, but finally making eye-contact with Logan, Krit attempted to explain the difficulty of the situation: "Her memory, it's not exactly gone; more like coded, but a very complicated encryption with key strokes we're not familiar with. Zack, he left a key for the decoding in Max. Max, well, she couldn't risk it."

Krit hoped his use of a computer metaphor would calm Logan down, help him to focus on the logistics, rather than the personal.

When he continued to glare at him, Krit tried again.

"Look, it's like this; Max's memory is in pieces; sort of like a jigsaw puzzle. To protect herself from Manticore, she needed to separate herself from her memories, a sort of selective memory loss that would have barred her mind from them, but also from herself. It's a strategy Manticore taught us if we were ever captured and subjected to torture."

"And how, exactly, does this _strategy_ work." The rich, dangerously low rumblings of Logan's voice revealed just how close he was to losing his cool.

Krit didn't want to have to restrain him, but he also knew that the last thing that would be good for Max was having a distressed Logan charging back into the room and attempting to shake her memories into her.

"In order to separate herself from her memories, Max would have had to project her knowledge and feelings of a person or event onto a related object. Once she had concentrated everything she could onto the trigger object – which could be anything from an actual material object, to a phrase, to a touch or smell, anything she deeply associated with the memory in question – she would have been able to let go of that memory. Almost as if it had been wiped off her cerebral lobes. It would make her impervious to mind-probs, hypnosis, even para-normal manipulation techniques. The only way to access the memory is through the memory trigger, and as any good soldier would know, you'd want that object to be as difficult for the enemy to find as possible."

"So, we find one of Max's trigger memories and we can bring back Max's memory?" Logan asked; it couldn't be that easy, he thought.

"Shoot, if that's all it takes, Original Cindy's just gonna run down a grab Max's baby, we'll have this bitch beat before dinner." Original Cindy chuckled. "Ha! Manticore doesn't known Max like we do."

Silently sighing and wishing another one of his siblings would have drawn the task of explaining this to Logan and Cindy, Krit stated: "That's not exactly how it works. The different triggers would be linked together in a sequential chain, one trigger reveals one memory, perhaps signifying the next; the next would go a little further, bring back something else, but not before the first trigger was found. Even if, say, Max's motorcycle were a trigger it wouldn't stimulate her memory until the proceeding memory had been recognized. Depending on how far Max went with her blanking strategy, and my guess that it is extensive if she doesn't even recognize you, the chain could be very complex."

Logan was still tense, but not as desperate, when he stated: "You seem pretty sure that it will take a long while for Max to get everything back, but Zack was able to remember everything within days. What's the difference?"

Krit once again silently sighed, but decided not to hold anything back: "Knowledge of Max. For all his bravado, Zack couldn't bring himself to do what was necessary, to forget Max. Do you know how dangerous that was? How open it left him to manipulation? He probably thought he could do it with one memory trigger. Zack should have attempted to split his memory of Max, and bury it almost as deeply as he did the voice message code. But he didn't, and it almost got them both killed."

Continuing on: "Max wouldn't take that risk; she would have buried the things that were the most important the deepest. Logan, I guarantee you that the last memory in her chain, the first one she buried, was your identity as Eyes Only."

"Hear me out for just a second, I know this seems a bit theoretical, but it's important in understanding what you have to expect with Max. Memories are complicated things; they don't just hinge on events, but also incorporate emotions. No one memory is going to be able to encapsulate everything we feel for someone we care about. The more complex our feelings, the more complex our brain patterns. Zack is right this in one regard: Sentimentality leaves you vulnerable. In his case, by not splitting his memories of Max into different triggers, the Manticore scientists were able to get a foot hold into his mind. It was only sheer strength of will, and their impatience, that saved him."

"Max knows this, she was better at psychological war-fare then him, we all were" even in these dire circumstances, Krit couldn't help give a small smile at their leader's emotional ineptitude. "She would have separated her memories of you - your Eyes Only identity, your friendship, your romantic feelings, any particularly emotional event - into separate triggers. The ones that left her and you the most exposed would therefore be the most difficult to access."

"It's important for you to understand, even if we find the first trigger, which won't be easy since an entire team of trained Manticore scientists couldn't after seven months, it's possible she could never find everything she's buried."

If Krit had expected Logan to be devastated by the news, it was because, unlike Max, he hadn't been around during the marathon research sessions and determined pursuits of bad-guys.

During the previous year and half, the man, Logan Cale, and his alter ego, Eyes Only, had often been at war with contradictory desires. The dinners with Max he had canceled, the business he took on their vacations – were times where the latter had over-powered the former. In recent months, the former had nearly died, as the alter-ego took on both roles. But now, in this, the two were completely unified. Logan, Eyes Only, Cale would stop at nothing – emotionally or physically – to help Max get her memory back. If he needed to fill her in on a few details, well so be it.

Letting his thoughts bubble to the surface, Logan firmly stated: "Then she'll make new memories, but in the mean time, she's safe, alive, and away from Manticore. If that's all we accomplish, then that's enough. But…" stated Logan, to both Krit and Jondy who had just entered the room, "don't expect me to give up. We're going to do everything we can to help Max get her memories back; she worked too damn hard staying away from Manticore, attempting to have a normal life, to forget everything's she gained."

This was Logan Cale at his best, strong and driven. Whether they knew it or not, it gave them hope that, no matter what the diagnosis, Max would recover.

Nevertheless, Jondy needed to give them the verdict. "Derek's finished the examination."

Meeting their expectant eyes, Jondy turned to the woman in the corner: "Cindy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know how long Max has been in Seattle?"

"My girl has been here two and half years. We came up from LA together. Why?"

"Because, Max doesn't remember anything about her life here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers, two hours later…**

The X5s, Logan, and Original Cindy were gathered in Logan's apartment.

Max had been sedated and was laid out in the guest bed; comfortable, but restrained. The mood in the room had once again shifted to incredulous as they contemplated the enormity of the task before them.

"It's just not possible," repeated Seth. "How could she erase nearly three years worth of memories? Halfway through the process alone, she must have become disoriented. There have to be large holes she missed, there have to be."

"Maybe a few images, sounds, smells, but let me assure you, our little sis did a very thorough job of forgetting." Derek stated. "Must have driven those Manticore scientists mad."

"But two questions still remain: how did she do it? And how do we reverse the process?" asked Jondy.

"Well that's the problem," muttered Derek, "I have no idea how she did it. Theoretically, once she had forgotten her reasons for forgetting, she would have stopped, leaving unimportant things like her apartment, general location, place of work, and various miscellaneous information in reach. Even if someone major, like Original Cindy was purposely forgotten, other minor characters in her life would be remembered. Images, people, places – sure I see that – but an entire block of time seems nearly impossible, yet Max's mind seems totally blank."

After a moment of silence, when everyone pondered this puzzle, Logan spoke.

"Okay, so let's forget the how for a moment," He firmly stated. "We know that Max did manage to block out a large continuous block of time. Let's focus on what we do from here. We know that she has to have some initial trigger, the first bread crumb on the trail so to speak, what is that likely to be?"

"Maybe something personal?" Cindy offered, unusually subdued. "Something they wouldn't have known about like her favorite cup, or the pattern on her comforter?"

"Couldn't be," Derek objected, "the mind won't differentiate between inanimate objects. A cup is a cup, a motorcycle a motorcycle. Even if Maxie used her Ninja, any motorcycle could have trigged her memory. And that's a risk she couldn't have taken."

"It's not a bad concept, though, Cindy," Jondy soothed. "It is possible that Max could have chosen something extremely personal to end her chain with. A personal smell, the touch of someone's skin or the sound of their voice."

"But it's unlikely," Derek added.

"And that would be because?" Logan asked.

"It would be nearly impossible to recreate in Manticore," Derek stated simply. "Max would have ideally wanted a final memory trigger that would be something that Manticore wouldn't "test" – so nothing overly common like motorcycles or cups or even well-known landmarks – but yet also something she could potentially stumble upon when she was on the outside for the missions she would inevitably be sent on. And remember, it would need to be something she intrinsically linked with that memory – so she couldn't have just chosen something at random."

"So I guess it depends on her mindset during that time," Jondy added. "Was she desperate enough to go for something so personal that it was unlikely she would ever regain her memory, or did she hold out some hope that she'd get out of there?"

"My boo wouldn't have totally given up," Original Cindy, faithfully said.

"Her first priority would be protecting us," Logan countered.

"Yes, but using a friend as a first trigger would hold its own dangers," Derek thoughtfully added. "Let's assume she makes Cindy's voice her trigger; she's at Manticore, somebody links Cindy to her through alternative channels – she remembers her at the exact moment it would be best to pretend she doesn't. Plus there's no way she could have used you Logan. They would surely have marked your hacks as sources for the mind probes."

"So where do we go from here?" Logan inquired, his frustration evident.

Derek took the lead: "We split up into three teams. Krit and I will try to map out ways Max could have created her memory loss to remove the past two and half years. If we can figure out how she did it maybe we can narrow down possible memory triggers. Jondy and OC should try to figure out personal or obscure sensation memories that Max might have used and present them to her – sort of like taking shots in the dark, but we may get lucky. Logan, you need to continue working on that disk Max hid from Manticore. Decode it and classify it. Maybe it will give us some clue as to her thoughts while she was there."

"How long do you have, Derek, before you need to head back to Washington?" Jondy questioned.

"I told the chairwoman I was going on weeklong trip to see my grandmother. If grandmother happens to get ill, I bet I can squeeze a good month out this – her "family values" platform and all."

Krit smirked, "Unless she gets impatient to start that affair she's so interested in."

Derek rolled his eyes, "You know once you go transgenic…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Logan's spare bedroom…**

Max laid in bed contemplating the past 24 hours. A number of unexpected events had occurred, which begged for analysis.

Foremost, was the unexpected "rescue" by her siblings. They seemed to think that she had been imprisoned at Manticore against her will, or at least that's how they presented it to her.

Max had to admit they had taken a great risk to get her out. That alone challenged her understanding of past events. If she had, indeed, spent the past three years under Manticore rule why would they come to get her now, and why hadn't they attempted to get Brin too?

Then there was the fact that they had no idea what had happened to Zack. The way they questioned her, Max suspected they thought he was alive and that she might be able to help them. She had refrained from giving them any definite answers, aware that her knowledge might provide her with a tactical advantage.

It was her memory loss that was the most troubling. Given what she now knew, one of the two parties in her life –either her family or her unit – was exploiting her. And that thought alone was enough to anger her.

Currently, Max felt out of control, something she usually avoided at all costs.

For her part, there was something genuine that made Max inclined to believe her siblings, and perhaps she would have if it wasn't for Lydecker's presence. Whether he or Renfro had been responsible, Max knew that it was his attack on the genetics lab which had led to Zack's death and her…capture?

The fact that her siblings, who she knew to have feared and hated him as much as her in their youth were working with him now suggested there was something shady going on.

No, at least Renfro was the devil she knew. Or at least she thought she did. Again, things had been "murky" when she had left. Alpha team had decided to monitor Renfro's activities to make sure she was indeed serving the government as she had sworn to. If not, they were going to have one hell of a time deposing her.

Imagining kicking Renfro's ass made her smile in anticipation. No way was she going to miss out on that.

Laying back and stretching her muscles slightly, Max considered her surroundings. The room was comfortable and clean, with a polished, affluent air to it. She decided she was still in the apartment she had come to in.

That again was something unexpected. After her fight with Zane, Max had floated around in a state of unconsciousness that was not unlike her trance-like state. Like always, she floated amid torn and frayed bits of memory that comforted her. Smells, touches, and sounds broken from their original associations rose up like old friends.

As usual, Max ultimately wandered into a room where delicious scents permeated her senses, causing her mouth to water in anticipation. Shortly after, she would smell him. That distinct, masculine odor that included fresh soap, sandalwood, clean laundry, coffee and something uniquely…him. It soothed her and excited her simultaneously; two opposing emotions that had no right to co-exist and yet did, here with him. She tried to just enjoy, but as usual found herself struggling to see him. To try and push her subconscious to remember his face or name.

And although Max had attempted to do this dozens upon dozens of times, this time felt slightly different. This time, his scent intensified as she wrestled against the unknown barrier erected in her mind. She felt that at any second it would finally disappear and she would see him. It excited her, and as she gradually and unknowingly moved into consciousness, she held firmly to that thought.

And then her eyes opened and there he was.

Or at least there was a man who smelled just like him, looking at her with crystal blue eyes that shimmered with a nameless emotion, and a deep, smooth voice that reverently and tenderly called out her name. He wasn't old or odd; he was handsome and intellectual-looking. Handsome in a way that wasn't just the classical beauty of the X5s, but more casual and soulful….and sensual, Max thought as she looked from his penetrating eyes to his well-formed lips.

And that was the last thought she had before he lowered them to hers. She couldn't help it, caught somewhere between her dream and reality, she responded, kissing him back. His mouth was soft and hot – it brought warmth to her and stimulated desire.

She could tell that he was holding back and that his body was trembling with want. Looking back, Max knew she wouldn't have stopped him if he'd pressed. His advances had clouded her brain with a different type of haze and all she could focus on was the sensation of him and the triumph of finally putting a face to the memory.

And then he stopped, and Max had realized who she was and where she wasn't… at Manticore. The way he voiced her name, with such confidence and knowing, had suddenly made her angry. Who was this guy to take such propriety of her? To act like he was someone she should know.

She was angry at both him and herself for not knowing, and that had made her harsh.

Once her survival instinct had kicked in, Max did a survey of her surroundings; again, she felt disoriented by what she found. This was hardly the place one would expect to find oneself after being kidnapped; it was tasteful and luxurious, not to mention insecure. She should of felt reassured by that, and his physical disability – that she would be able to escape.

But nothing would let Max escape the intensity of his eyes. He wanted something from her, something important, but Max didn't know what, and when he had said her name one more time she had snapped – a very poor tactic in combat, she reasoned - and went for the jugular, his disability.

It had worked, he's backed off slightly, but inexplicably Max had found she didn't want him to. Not completely anyway – and when once again he pull her into him, she'd unthinking let him. And then things had gotten even weirder, as a woman she had never met, her long-lost siblings, and Lydecker, her personal anti-Christ, had all entered this strange man's familiar scented apartment.

No wonder, she hadn't been able to react more rationally and had easily been restrained.

So now the question remained, what did she do next?

The soldier's answer came quickly, but Max recoiled from it slightly.

It wasn't right; she didn't like it, and yet it made sense. Max shifted uncomfortably as she tried to think of another way, but ultimately failed.

Zack would have understood, she attempted to rationalize. Hadn't he always told her that she shouldn't let emotions get in the way of being a soldier – although Max couldn't quite pinpoint when he had said that.

Anyway, it was the only way she could get them to follower her, so she could bring them home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore…**

Renfro was livid.

How 452 had managed to escape again was beyond her. She knew that she must have had outside help with all the security cameras wiped clean of data from the previous 24 hours. Her only comfort was that members of her unit obviously weren't involved. Otherwise, they wouldn't still be here.

Nevertheless, Renfro intended to make them pay for their compatriot's desertion. After all, she needed to make sure they knew who was in charge for the war to come.

XXX

Brin, Troy, and Alec and the other members of Alpha team secretly gathered together after hours. The halls were once again their own, since the monitor system had been shut down after the second breach; this time for good.

They debriefed one another over some important topics. The disappearance of Max – which they all felt sure hadn't been planned by her; the new breeding program, which was intolerable; and Renfro's possible traitorous actions.

It was time they got some answers.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Original Cindy's apartment…**

"Are you ready boo?" said the voice behind Max.

"Yeah, sure." Max stated, unable to dredge up the enthusiasm the woman was obviously looking for.

Max couldn't believe that she'd allowed the Original Cindy to cover her eyes with her hands. What would the people at Manticore say about putting yourself at such a disadvantage?

But the other woman had been so excited about showing her the apartment they supposedly shared, and had spent the entire car ride jabbering on about Max's life in Seattle, her job as a bike messenger, and a cast of colorful characters who were supposedly Max's friends.

Despite her best attempts to keep herself collected and cool, Max found herself smiling at some of the woman's more colorful phrases and stories.

"So you're telling me we bailed this guy Sketchy's ass out of a jam when he was stupid enough to take the job in the first place and then even stupider to lose the money he was trafficking?"

"Straight up, girl. Man's an idiot."

"Sounds like the law of the jungle, weeding out the weak, if you ask me."

"Yeah well, we couldn't let out little runt of the litter get eaten. Though we came close."

They had both laughed at that, before Max got a chance to stop herself.

There was something about Original Cindy she innately liked, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. The woman couldn't be on the level, despite how sincere she appeared. She must have an agenda because if what she were saying was true than everything Max thought she knew would be wrong.

When they had made their way up the filthy building's stairwell, Original Cindy had started talking about Max's reunion with her "baby". Something about an "extension of her soul" and how she thought Max wouldn't be able to stop caressing it.

Max wasn't entirely sure what this "baby" was. Maybe a cat or pet of some sort? Definitely not a real child. But she doubted it would have the effect Cindy seemed so sure it would have.

Nevertheless, she let Cindy cover her eyes, only giving Jondy a slight eye roll before doing so.

"Okay, here goes…" Cindy said, before removing her hands.

Max blinked.

It was beautiful.

She couldn't help herself, Max went over and started caressing the handlebars and leather seat. She vaguely heard Cindy's succession of crowing remarks and Jondy's description of the model.

Finally, looking up she asked: "Who's is it?"

Max desperately wanted to take a ride, to feel the wind on her face and have the feeling she could go anywhere. This bike and everything it represented was in direct opposition to Manticore. It was the antithesis of control, structure, and conformity. And yet it was sleek, powerful, and wild. It could be an extension of her soul, Max decided.

"It's yours boo."

"Mine?" Max's face remained impassive as she looked at the beautiful machine, she couldn't believe it.

With a small chuckle, Cindy repeated. "Yes. Yours."

Max let her hands continue to caress the bike before making a decision and straddling it. Mine, she thought.

"I want to take it for a ride."

Original Cindy and Jondy looked at each other. They weren't sure what to say, denying Max seemed cruel, and yet allowing it seemed risky.

"You remember anything sugar?" Cindy asked hopefully.

"No." Max bluntly answered as she revved the engine.

"Max." Jondy began, but when she looked in her sister's eyes she came to a decision. "Just come back here in the next two hours."

"You got it!" Max stated, giving her a smile.

The first smile she had bestowed on anyone in two days.

And with that she was off, leaving Jondy and Original Cindy worrying in her wake.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers, Logan's office…**

"You let her what?!" was Krit's alarmed reply to Jondy's story.

"She needed to experience freedom. To understand what Manticore had been denying her and to begin to know we trust her." Jondy firmly stated, sticking to her decision.

"And this was what?" Krit asked.

"Over three hours ago."

"Dammit!" Derek murmured.

"She could still come back," Jondy offered, the cracks beginning to show in her calm veneer.

"Or she could head straight back to Manticore," Krit countered.

The brother and sister glared at one another before Logan interrupted.

"It was the right thing to do." Logan calmly stated.

"What?!" Krit voice was obviously stunned. He had been sure Logan would take his part on this.

"When Max met up with Jace, she made a decision to trust her. We need to do the same, because no matter how hard we try, we can't keep Max if she won't let us."

The X5s looked at Logan, it wasn't the first time they were impressed with the man Max had become involved with.

Just then the phone rang. Logan answered, and spoke a few assents in to the phone.

"Yep…uh huh.. I'll let her know, bye."

Turning back to the three assembled, he evenly stated: "That was Original Cindy. Max just came back."

Letting out a breath they didn't even know they were holding, they all nodded and went back to work.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Original Cindy's….**

Max was doing her best not to seem annoyed, but she had spent the last three hours being shown every object contained within the small apartment, and every story that went along with it.

By now the apartment was in disarray, with kitchen items strewn over the small counters, clothing carpeting the floors, and personal items tossed all over the furniture. Max felt like she had been trapped in Cyclone Cindy, and it wasn't over yet.

"Hey boo, do you remember this?" OC asked, holding up a sparkly one-shoulder top. "This is the top you wore to keep Sketchy from having his masculine parts removed."

"Nope, nothing." Max replied, barely casting an eye over the glittery top, having a hard time believing she'd ever donned the skimpy, glittery thing.

Max knew she was being curt, but it was annoying to be constantly asked if you remembered things that she wasn't sure ever happened.

Just the number of stories OC had spun to her today, left Max was ready to believe that this woman, at least, believed what she was saying. She couldn't image anyone who was lying to have quite that much determination and creativity.

It made Max feel guilty about what she had done when she was out.

Suddenly, Max couldn't take it anymore. The trusting eyes, the constant smiles, the hopefully glances – she needed to get out.

"Listen. I'm tired. I should head back." Max attempted to excuse herself.

"You're actually tired boo? What did they do to you at that place?"

The familiarity, the way she knew her sleep patterns, it was too much.

"Gotta blaze." Max said, grabbing her motorcycle, as she hurried out the door. "Late."

She didn't know it. But Max's actions made Original Cindy more hopeful than anything else she had done that day.

The slang, the bike, the vague excuses to go over to Logan's – yep that was the Max she knew and loved.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

Max entered Logan's apartment with a distracted air. The ride over had relieved some of her stress, but unfortunately it didn't last long.

As she had entered Fogle Tower's parking garage, Max couldn't help but notice the way the doorman had unquestioningly waved her through, even giving her a smile of welcome, as if her presence were a regular occurrence.

Max knew Lydecker was good. If anybody could pull off an elaborate ruse, it was him. But Original Cindy was so sincere, the doorman was too arbitrary, the motorcycle close to home. Max knew lies were created in the details, but despite her best efforts to find some flaw, she had yet to be able to.

Then there were her siblings.

Max had to admit she enjoyed hearing about their lives and seeing that they were alright. It touched some part of her that she thought would be forever lost, and almost made her rethink her strategy… almost.

Max knew the rules – don't let yourself get attached – but it was more difficult then she imaged.

As she walked a little farther into the spacious apartment, Max heard some papers rustling from the office.

Logan.

Max hadn't had much contact with mysterious, wheel-chair bound man since the intense scene when she'd woken up.

Given that she had been staying in his guest room, she figured he must be avoiding her. It was a gesture that intrigued her and made her curious.

She wondered if he was angry with her or if he was attempting to make her more comfortable by letting her have space. And either way, she wondered why she cared. It wasn't like he was anything to her.

"Hey." she stated, as she paused in the entrance to his office.

"Hey, Max." He had responded after a short pause.

For just a moment, Max could have sworn, his eyes had shone with powerful emotions before quickly shuttering over with a look of friendly indifference.

Max shifted awkwardly under his gaze, unsure of what to do now that she was alone with him.

He saved her the trouble, "How was the outing with Original Cindy? Find any lost memories?"

His casual reference to her situation put Max at ease, and she was able to respond with her usual attitude. "Nah. Apparently I didn't make glittery tank tops the clue to my subconscious."

"You own something with glitter on it?" Logan asked with disbelief.

"Supposedly, but I'm not buying it either." She smiled slightly.

His answering smile made her pulse quicken slightly; wheelchair or no, there was no denying he was a good-looking man.

That thought reminded her of something she wanted to say.

Max began, "Listen. About the other night, I might have said some things that weren't… polite."

Again, his eyes blazed for a second, in what Max could only term as pain.

"Forget it."

Immediately, the walls were back up and he turned back to the computer.

"You know, I was just a bit disoriented, with everything that had gone down."

He turned around to face her.

"Having your long-lost siblings suddenly appear to free you from your childhood prison wouldn't be easy for anyone." Logan returned, attempting to see how she would take that last comment.

This time it was Max who looked away. "Yeah," she murmured quietly, obviously uncomfortable.

Logan made his voice more business-like as he asked. "There is something else I wanted to ask you about. The facility that you said they brought Zack to, did you know any other details about it?"

"Not really," Max returned, keeping her expression neutral. "They weren't really big on sharing information like that."

"Then how did you know they took him there?" Logan questioned, his voice equally as unreadable.

"Renfro told me what happen to Zack, right after I woke up from my heart-transplant," Max answered, unable to keep the pain from her voice as the lie and truth merged together.

Logan heard the note of pain. "It's alright Max, we'll get him back."

"Yeah… well, it was Troy who said they had him south of the city." Max pressed on.

"Troy?"

"My CO."

"So you have a new one," Logan deadpanned. "Is this one as protective as the first?"

He couldn't of known, Max reasoned, but the question still made her bristle. "What the hell is that suppose to mean?!"

Logan raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at her, but didn't back down. "Just that Zack was over-protective and you didn't like it."

Max lowered her voice a few decimals, but continued her confrontational tone. "And you would know that how?"

"Because you told me." Logan answered simply.

"According to you. Let's just get this mission worked out, anymore questions?"

"Fine." Logan tersely replied. "Did you learn anything about this places defensive capabilities? We're about to invade there tomorrow and I'd like to not send your brothers and sisters into a well-armed fortress."

For a moment, Max's stomach dropped. She wasn't sure what type of forces Manticore would be sending to collect its lost soldiers, and she was scared they might hurt them if they didn't capitulate quickly.

Forcing herself to concentrate, Max answered Logan, "No idea."

"Max? You okay? You're worried about them aren't you?" Logan asked softly, he couldn't help but react to her distress.

"I'm fine!" Max spat, unable to check her roiling emotions. "Don't act like you know me or what's going on with me, because you don't!!"

Logan rose to his feet, invading her personal space and staring down at her, as he angrily replied "Like hell I don't!"

Max found herself at a loss for words – his body was so close, his lips inches away from hers, and he seemed to vibrating with an intensity that was addictive. Max watched as his eyes made their way to her lips, and she felt an answering pulse within her own body. She felt sure he was going to touch her, but within a few seconds he had turned and stepped away, walking over to the windows in the living room.

It was only then that Max realized, "You're walking! I thought you were paralyzed."

"I am." He enigmatically responded.

"Not exactly the type of paralysis I'm use to. Does it only affect you during certain hours of the day?" Max sardonically asked.

"Something like that." Logan retorted, before finally turning around. "I have an exo-skeleton that allows me to use my legs."

"And how did you get that? They don't exactly hand those out at the local hospitals," Max rejoined.

"Guess you'll have to search your memory." Logan replied.

"You can't be serious."

"I am." Logan stated, before walking past her and sitting down at his computer again. "Now tell me what else you know about this facility, so we can be ready for tomorrow."

Staring at the back of his head, Max made a decision. No matter what happened tomorrow, she wasn't going to tell Manticore about Logan…or Original Cindy. They didn't deserve what Renfro would do to them, and Max didn't have the heart to watch it either.

Now she just needed to make sure everyone stayed in one piece tomorrow, so that everyone – her unit and her family would be together again.

Now if only she could convince her heart that this was the right decision she'd be fine. Taking a deep breath, Max turned back to the task at hand.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**That's all for now, I've had part of this written for a long time so I'm glad to finally be able to share it. I'm hoping regular updates will continue to translate into regular reviews. So please let me know your thoughts. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So this isn't up to my usual length requirement. Real life has been playing havoc with my writing time, so I figured it was better to get something posted, in order to keep things rolling, rather than continuing to delay. I hope you enjoy.**

XXXXX

**Fogle Towers, late…**

The wheels were nearly silent on the hard wood floor.

No normal senses could not have picked up the sound of rubber and the barely perceptible creasing of cotton, but Max's senses were far from normal.

Staring out at the city skyline, X452 didn't bother to turn her head, but in a monotone voice commented: "I thought you went to bed."

Logan's voice revealed no surprise at her having heard him; he knew that she would.

"Can't sleep."

Slowly, he wheeled up beside up beside her. She was perched on the edge of his chair in much the same position as she used to sit when something was bothering her. The parallel wasn't lost on Logan, who also noticed the new, slightly stiffer bent of her shoulders and the uncomfortable air that settled over her at his approach.

It was almost like he could read the story of her life, everything she had forgotten and since experienced, through her body's language. The thought both sadden him and made him feel connect to her.

As minutes ticked by and still he didn't move to break the silence, Max finally glanced at him to ask, "Am I in your spot or something? Cuz I can move."

"No. You're fine."

The truth was Logan could no longer stand to not be near her. Seven hopeless months of missing her, only to be forced to give her space, physically and mentally, when all he wanted was get as close as possible.

It had taken all his considerable willpower to resist pressing her for more. To avoid seeking her out as her presence whispered in and out of his apartment, often invisible to his eyes, but experienced through a whiff of her scent or the echo of her footsteps.

Her presence in his office tonight had only fueled the desire to be near her, as her body language had unconsciously assumed its familiar stance, hip out, leaning slightly against the doorframe.

So much was still the same, their banter, his ability to read her. And so when she had denied their connection, it had caused the burning want in his gut to flare up in anger. He had been so close to tipping her back head so he could plunge in to taste her, to put himself inside her, where her memories of him should have been.

Luckily he resisted, Logan thought. He had been able to pull himself back from the brink by reminding himself that the only thing that spontaneous action would do was push her further away. Not to mention make her kick his ass.

Nevertheless, as he had lain in bed a few hours later, with Max only meters away, he had been unable to resist the comfort of her presence. As he had pushed himself out of bed, not even bothering with exo, he told himself he just needed to sit in the same room, to get a glimpse of her breathing form from the corner of his eyes.

Now that he was sitting there, Logan let his mind drift as he let her presence soothe him.

Problems could wait until tomorrow; right now he would take what comfort was offered to him.

Max was less settled by Logan's presence.

In fact, it agitated her. Not because she found it intrusive, but because this upclose, his smell pervaded her senses and nibbled at her memory. It refused to let her rest as forgotten images remained stubbornly out of reach.

Unable to just sit there, she turned to face him. She noted the red rimming his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.

"You're tired." Max stated, uncertain of why she did so.

He was tired; but not primarily from lack of sleep.

Rather than answering immediately, he stared back at her, letting her see the deep wells of emotion that seemed to burn just below the surface.

"Yeah." He answered.

He held her gaze for just a moment before Max was able to turn away. The exchange left her silent.

They didn't speak for the next hour.

Finally, just as quietly as he had come, Logan turned and wheeled himself back into his bedroom.

It wasn't until the morning that Max learned from Jondy that the mission had been postponed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Jam Pony, after hours…**

"And this was your locker," Original Cindy proudly showed Max the beat up metal cage standing in the rundown, graffiti filled building.

The stuck on label which said "Max" remained firmly in place as if in testament to the woman's story.

"We use to store our stuff here, exchange the daily word, get changed, meet for lunch."

Max looked back at the woman, a neutral expression on her face. Truth be told, Max's mind was far from the evening's activity, and instead focused on the "rescue" mission which had been delayed until tomorrow – probably, Max figured, in response to Lydecker's suspicion.

The postponement didn't matter much to her, Manticore was prepared to wait for what it wanted, but she recognized the move for what it was – an effort to take additional precautions.

Although her siblings might love her, they obviously didn't entirely trust her. It was a fact that would have made Max sad except she knew their feelings were valid.

"Hey boo, come check out Normal's desk – recognize any of this?" Cindy asked.

Shaking her head, Max's mind continued to parallel process between her guilty thoughts and OC's words, as she had been all day.

During the morning they had snuck into a bar name Crash and during the afternoon they had spied out several bike messengers from a distance. The entire time, Cindy had continued with her confident swagger, sure that at any moment Max would return to herself.

She didn't, and Max wasn't surprised.

It wasn't just that Max thought that no such memories existed, but because she knew herself well enough to know that she would never have exposed these innocent individuals to the wrath of Manticore. Everything about these people's dirty, colorful, chaotic world would be stomped out by the sterility, grayness, and order of Manticore. They would cease to exist as they were, and even though Max owed them nothing she still felt saddened by that thought.

The truth was, the longer she was out here, the less Max knew anything for sure. Everything she thought was true burned away under the fire of freedom, leaving Max with only a handful of givens: she missed her unit, loved her family, and wanted to ride her motorcycle – everything else existed in the murky quagmire of hopes, wishes, and sentiments that Max wouldn't let herself fall into.

Hope was for losers.

Max noticed as Original Cindy's face finally fell from its cheerful expression.

"Well boo… that's all I got." Cindy admitted unhappily, her soulful dark eyes betraying her deep regret. "Guess we should head back."

All day Max had successfully been ignoring Original Cindy's friendliness and familiarity, determined to keep aloof. However, something about this woman's despair reached her in a way that nothing else had.

Touching Cindy's arm, ever so slightly, Max gave her a small, half-smile. "What you say we go grab something to eat?"

Nodding in agreement, Original Cindy made an effort to return the gesture and respond to Max's offer with enthusiasm.

"Sounds good sugar. I happen to know a place over in Sector five that you and I have been eyeing for overly long. What do you say we go check out their goods?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Max responded.

The two women left Jam Pony side-by-side more in tune with one another than before Max could remember.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Lydecker's compound, Seattle….**

"I don't like it," Colonel Lydecker briskly stated. "Too many unknowns, the objective is too undefined."

"Max thinks Zack's there," Seth answered back. "That's enough to me."

"Your sister has just gotten back from seven months at Manticore, can't remember the past three years, and recently tried to kill me." Lydecker responded.

"Well at least she got the last part right," smirked Zane.

"You think this is funny soldier," Lydecker barked, getting into Zane's face. "How funny is it going to be when you're back at Manticore undergoing a psychological evaluation from the woman who murdered your sister!"

"Easy Lydecker," Syl interfered before Zane or Seth could respond. "We're going to go with our sister on this one and you're either going to get on board or get out of the way."

He paused before, coolly stating: "Very well. It's your funerals," though his eyes betrayed his anger.

"And maybe, if we're lucky, yours," came Max's voice from the doorway, her eyes were shooting sparks at him; Lydecker didn't flinch under her hard stare.

"Care to tell me soldier, what you think we have to expect from this top-secret facility that I know nothing about?" Lydecker asked, ignoring Max's comment.

"No idea. Renfro forgot to send me the memo." Max replied, her usual snappy sarcasm covering her emotions.

"Well perhaps you can lead the way for your siblings – some of who will remain in defensive positions."

Max shrugged her shoulders.

"Whatever you want Colonel. But who's going to be keeping an eye on you so you don't run off if it gets rough?"

Her words were flippant and purposely inflammatory, but they were calculated to serve a purpose. They would perhaps encourage Lydecker to reveal his location and keep him from bailing when things went down.

"Don't worry about me; just watch your own back." Lydecker stated, refusing to be baited.

"Alright are we ready?" asked Jondy.

"Yeah. Let's move out," answered Syl.

Internally, Max took a deep breath. She was throwing away their freedom – and she knew it.

XXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

Logan was hooked up to comms, monitoring the satellite read out of the facility Zack was supposedly being kept at, when Derek and Krit entered his apartment without knocking.

They were excited, that much he could tell even though the majority of his attention was focused on the interplay of directions being given by the team of X5s on the other end of the comlink.

The mission to bring Zack home had just commenced, and so Logan ignored their smug grins and suggestive nudges.

"Military activity is focused in the east wing of the facility" Logan directed, using the satellite readout to update them. "From what I can tell there seems to be a small contingent of soldiers in the brig and a handful of prisoners being kept there. It's difficult to say whether or not that area has equipment able to hold an X5, but it seems to be our best shot."

Communication ceased for several minutes as the X5s began to move into different positions around the base. Logan attempted to remain alert and focused on his read out, but couldn't help but be distracted by Krit who was insistently tapping his fingers on Logan's desk.

Finally unable to ignore him, Logan turned an irritated eye to the X5 who seemed totally unapologetic at his antics.

"Do you mind? I'm sort of busy helping to save your brother." Logan snapped.

"Nah. We can wait, but we just thought you might be anxious to hear that we were able to back-tract Max's memory loss." Krit quipped, self-satisfaction oozing from him.

Logan raised his eyebrows and was about to respond when Max's voice rang through his ear piece.

"We found Zack, everybody fall in!"

XXXXXX

**Somewhere in South Seattle…**

Max had been crawling through the air shafts with Syl behind her. It was up to them to check out the brig while the others secured other various parts of the facility. Max knew from her earlier conversation with those from Manticore what awaited them. Although Logan had been right, there was only a small contingent of soldiers in this area of the building, they weren't ordinary soldiers – they were X5s.

Max peered through the air vent and into the room below. As she had anticipated, part of her unit was there – Troy, Alec, Biggs – and Max suspected that the woman in the holding area posing as a prisoner was Brin.

Max signaled behind her to Syl – only three soldiers. Syl nodded in response and signaled back to Max that they should attack. In a way, it made Max feel better. She dreaded giving the order that would have everyone scrambling back to the brig, giddy with excitement at finding Zack. Although it was only temporary, Max was happy to delay the "Et tu, Brute" moment.

Max signal in assent and the two sisters dropped soundlessly to the floor below.

And then it all happened with speed that only an X5 can move with.

Max quickly spun behind Syl, who hadn't been anticipating an attack from that angle, and had lightly pressed the artery that would assure that she remained unconscious for the next five minutes or so.

Looking up, she made eye contact with her unit – all of who were wearing small, but sincere smiles. They tipped their heads in greeting, and Max needed to remind herself that hugs weren't appropriate for soldiers.

It was Troy who ultimately stepped forward and signaled for Max to give the command. His eyes lent her strength to do what came next.

Mustering all of her resolve, Max spoke the words that would seal her siblings' fate: "We found Zack, everybody fall in!"

XXXXX

Max's words triggered a flurry of responses.

The other X5s rushed their way to brig, so excited at their reunion that they missed the large contingent of ordinary soldiers who were stationed around the large antechamber which led into the holding area. Those same soldiers had been called into action by Troy's signal, directly after Max's transmission.

The '09ers pulled up short when they saw Brin, carrying an unconscious Syl, and an unbound Max, standing by the side of four other beautiful, powerful X5s.

They saw their betrayal in her eyes, and it was Jondy who gave voice to it, uttering one anguished: "Max!"

Not allowing her mask to fall, Max held calm under their accusing gazes: "It's for the best; come quietly and no one will get hurt."

"How can you even say that." Coreen responded, hurt oozing through her voice. "Don't you know we'd rather die than go back there."

A memory echoed in the back of Max's mind, but she pushed it aside.

"Listen, this doesn't have to end with bloodshed. Just put your weapons down and…"

All the sudden an explosion went off, which shook the building.

Immediately, Syl, who had regained consciousness only moments before sprang into actions, knocking Brin down and turning to face her in a fight stance.

Immediately, the other '09ers assumed their own attack positions, forming a circle, and the ordinary soldiers lifted their weapons.

Troy bellowed to them, "Remember tazers only! We want them alive."

But as the one who was closest to Brin and Syl lifted his weapon, Max saw it for what it was, a semi-automatic.

It was almost like she could all hear Renfro's voice giving the orders to soldiers back at Manticore: _"Shoot any X5 who resists."_

She had only a moment to think, and so instinct prevailed. Max leaped, pushing Syl to the floor and throwing them out of the way of the bullet.

As they rolled, mass chaos broke out around them. The 09ers began to take out ordinaries; the ordinaries attempted to fire, and the four other X5's looked to Troy for guidance.

"Attempt to capture," X624 ordered, "but don't get in the way if any soldiers have a clean shot."

Max's emotions were in complete turmoil, a state that was reflected in the tempest of war that raged around her.

Inside her head, Max kept chanting, _don't let them die, don't let them die_, knowing without a doubt that if they did it was all her fault.

So she fought, fought for her siblings and against Manticore. She took out a soldier who had Zane in his sights. She used a piece of lose pipe as a spear – piercing one of Seth's assailant. And when she saw Brin get her hands around Jondy's neck she responded again – without thinking – choosing one sister over the other.

She knocked Brin's ass to the floor with the same move Brin had taught her several weeks earlier.

It was a moment of revelation as the three sisters looked from one to the other. Here they were, together after 11 years, and all three of them seemed to be fighting for different sides.

It was crazy, it was illogical, it was war.

XXXX

Who would have broken the moment was unclear. Quickly, the battle stepped in to reclaim the sisters.

It was Brin, who saw it first, just as she was getting up.

From behind, an ordinary approached Max and butted her in the head with the back of his gun. She stumbled forward falling to her knees. In a moment she would have been safely to her feet, recovered from the blow, but another soldier had come up from behind, wielding a handgun, preparing to shoot Max in the head, execution style.

His hand never made it the entire way up, before he fell back dead, Brin's bullet between his eyes; the first soldier following just a second later with Jondy's boot bringing blunt force to his larynx.

Again, another stronger explosion rocked the building, sending bits of metal and plaster crashing down from the roof and onto the heads below.

Soldiers could be heard screaming in pain and dust filled the air and their lungs.

The destruction made Brin lose sight of Max and Jondy for a few precious seconds. When she finally spotted them it was only through the debris and rubble with a good twenty yards separating them. Jondy was carrying an unconscious Max from the premises, navigating the unstable terrain with an assurity that was unattainable for most.

The scene inadvertangly reminded Brin of a twisted parody of their escape from over eleven years ago. It made her long for Tinga; her own partner.

Again, she caught sight of something beyond her reach to prevent. Dimmly, she watched Troy, running after the escapees, keeping a low profile as if not to attract attention.

His actions were confusing. As CO, he should have been issuing orders and marshalling his troops, but he too seemed to have forgotten his role, like so many others today, in the anarachy of betrayal and family.

Brin's mind finally snapped back into the present wth Alec's voice bellowing: "Who the hell gave the order to terminate and how the hell did they manage to set explosives!"

_And who the hell do we trust now_, Brin finished, as she watched her final long-lost sibling disappear back to freedom.

XXXX

Brin's question was similiar to the one raging through Logan's mind for days now.

It is what motivated him to give Syl directions to give a verbal response immediately if Max gave any orders. It was a covert sign that Max was indeed on the level – anything else would signal their worst fear.

So when Syl's voice had remained mute – Lydecker, who had been brought into Logan's designs at the last minute, had moved into action, setting off the first, in a number of charges surrounding the building.

Max had been wrong about who had called for the mission delay. It wasn't Lydecker. It was Logan.

Logan who suspected Max. Logan who had used his Eyes Only contacts to set the charges. Logan who had prepared for this worst case scenario.

Perhaps there are those who would condemn him for his lack of faith, but Logan Cale had spent seven hellish months thinking Max Guevera was dead, and even finding out she had been living in hell at Manticore hadn't been able to shake his deeply ingrained pragmatism.

No, he had decided early on - There was no way he was about to let her walk back into a trap – whether it had been engineered by her or not.

Last time Max left him to go up against Manticore she hadn't returned. She died in his arms, and he could do nothing to stop it.

This time, he had insisted on more time. This time, he had been prepared.

"What's our stasis?" Logan demanded, once the sound of explosions and gunfire began to diminish from the mikes.

Jondy's voice sounded through the comlink; "All accounted for, including Max."

"Bring her _home_," he clipped, his voice short and steady, betraying nothing of the emotional storm beneath.

XXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

After a moment of pause, which Logan used to metaphorically catch his breath, he turned to the stunned faces of the two X5s.

Derek and Krit's hearing had easily picked up on the exchanges from Logan's comlink, and they had waited with baited breath, feeling helpless, until they finally heard the confirmation that everyone had made it out alive. Even if a few had been banged up.

They were still recovering when Logan spoke.

"So let's hear it." Logan stated. "How did Max erase her memory and how do we get it back."

The two brothers looked at one another exchanging a single thought: the man must have been a drill sergeant in a former life.

XXXXXXXXX

**Any guesses on what Max's first memory trigger is? I've had it planned since the beginning, but I'm curious to hear if anyone has a good guess or better idea.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Please give patience to my ramblings; I will try to be brief. **

**First, it's wonderful to be back writing this story, and hopefully my readers haven't abandoned me. **

**Second, I find it's humbling to learn that all of your readers are either more creative or more capable of writing your story than you are. To those who responded to my challenge, if you didn't guess the trigger you probably came up with a better idea. I seriously considered changing the trigger to Sibelius or Logan's cooking after reading your replies. However, given the very linear way my mind works, I couldn't reconcile it with my plans. Nevertheless, I hope everyone won't throw rotten tomatoes (or reviews ) at my lack of ingenuity.**

**Finally, one of the readers pointed out a potentially confusing issue that I promised to clarify. Max's siblings in my story assume Zack is alive because they don't know what happened in the emergency room of AJBAC. When Syl finds Zack's grave in chapter nine of my story, she doesn't think anything of it (except an eerie shudder) because Lydecker told her to expect it. **

**That particular image is from Season one, episode "The Kidz Are Aiight". In it Lydecker and company bury Zack in a marked grave to trick him into thinking he's escaped so he will contact Max. Therefore, my assumption is the presence of the grave doesn't send off any warning bells since it is just a leftover from that situation. Hopefully, that clears up any questions.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Fogle Towers…**

The rain fell in quiet dark strips outside his picture windows.

For nearly all his life, Logan had personified the Seattle rain. At certain points of his existence, especially the past two years, it had most often felt like a reflection of his inner turmoil, the tears he himself had been unable to cry. At other points, it had felt like an angry fist, pounding down on the unsuspecting, anxious to flood out and destroy. Still at others, it had felt like the cleansing hand after a cathartic moment, healing and life-giving. During all those moments, Logan was sure it had never felt like this.

Tonight, surrounded by bruised and burning X5s who were all casting dark and despairing glances at the woman on his couch, their mutual betrayer and object of affection, the rain felt surreal. Like its presence signaled the transition from reality into some darker, preternatural world, with the central unnatural element embodied in the prone figure living nearby, the apparition of Max.

She had to be some sort of ghost or supernatural visitor, a figure who resembled his adored friend and their beloved sister, but was not her. Max could never act as this woman had.

Since she had whispered back into his life, Logan had often been struck by the irony. The familiar features, the longed for voice, the well-known gestures – all uncannily focused in an alien mind. It was enough to drive one to despair.

But yet, Logan didn't despair.

Like Pandora, he had hope trapped in a box, a literal box that was sitting in front of him, waiting for her to awake. Not a particularly big box, but a familiar one. A box that had been passed between him and her on at least one memorable occasion.

A box that contain one last hope.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Troy never thought much about the rain. He was an X5, meant to endure, meant to overcome, meant to survive, and to him the rain was just one more obstacle in a long life of such things. He expected annoyances.

And so he sat, quietly if not patiently, waiting for an opportunity to act. He let the rain beat down on him, never distracting him from the picture in front of him - an affluent apartment, filled with 10 conscious people, all of whom were too wrapped up in their own thoughts to look up at the skylight and notice the face peering in.

For another person, the image he painted would be symbolic, a dark figure, a top of a tall building, on the outside looking in – but Troy wasn't such a person. He saw things crisply, clearly… he saw Max.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max found herself in an increasingly familiar situation – waking up from having been rendered unconscious. It was a pattern that she was going to have to remedy, if only to regain her dignity as an X5.

Despite the disorienting sensations flooding her, Max forced the mist clouding her mind to subside. Conscientiously, she reached out with other four senses to determine as much as possible, before daring to open her eyes.

The first thing she sensed was rain, smattering on the window panes. It was an inconsequential point, but briefly, it made her feel sad.

Shaking off the thought, Max concentrated on other more useful clues that assailed her senses. She recognized the heady scent of cherry wood and fresh food, taking it as her signal that she was back at Logan's. She also deciphered, from the her sense of touch, that she was in the living room, the surface of her residence too hard to be the bed but far more giving than a table. Most importantly, she determined that she was surrounded by her siblings who seemed to be engaged in a heated debate with Lydecker.

It was one storm she could do without.

XXXX

Restless noises like clothing shuffling and fingers crackling, alerted Max to the tension in the room even before she heard anyone speak. Quickly it became apparent what, specifically, they were discussing…

"So lay this out for me one more time," Syl demanded. "How did Max miraculously forget three years of life experiences?"

"We're wasting time." interjected Lydecker overbearing and clipped voice, his pitch indicating that he was located farther away from Max than the others.

"Humor us." Zane's voice snapped, coming from Max's left.

"Okay, one more time for the rows in the back," Krit wearily replied. "We assumed Max buried the memories she didn't want Manticore to discover the deepest; the way we were taught."

"But she didn't," stated Seth, impatient to get on with it.

"No. She must have realized that as soon as she forgot Logan was Eyes Only that she'd begin to leave gaps. And eventually, she'd stop the progress because she would be unable to identify why she was using the strategy to begin with. So instead, she must have broken the memories down into different parts, burying small details first, removing things that wouldn't disorient her."

Max could feel her heart speeding up at Krit's words. Logan was Eyes Only, the pain in the ass cyberjournalist that Manticore scientists had continued to pry into her mind to find?

Despite the need she felt to get that information back to Manticore, Max also recognized that this was further evidence that it was her siblings, and not her unit, who was telling her the truth. The thought made her feel slightly nauseous, and yet she continued to listen.

"So, she forgot her work place, her friends, her apartment." Coreen supplied, something about her voice was off – as if she were talking through a wall.

"Yes." Derek piped in. His own voice was somewhat excited. Given his love of psychological warfare, Max figured he had natural interest in what they perceived to be her predicament.

"But my guess is that she buries a lot of the emotional stuff first. Think of it like this, if she takes out her feelings for her friends, Logan, Original Cindy… then her remaining memories become much easier to contain within a trigger. This allows her to proceed with the process, while burying her emotional responses to the memories she still has. Without the emotions, she'd be less vulnerable if Manticore found something out. It's brilliant actually. I mean Manticore always identified emotions as being a weakness, but it seems like Max is the first one to link the danger of emotions to memories and the blanking technique"

Thanks Derek, Max thought, it really would be brilliant if she'd actually thought of it. But try as she might, she just couldn't remember doing so.

"Makes sense, though," Krit added, "She would have seen the danger of letting emotions cloud one's memory triggers with Zack."

"So what does this mean?" Syl asked. "In a practical sense?"

"It means two things." Derek continued. "One, her memory is far more splintered than we realized. Even if she recovers a memory about, say, Jam Pony, she might not remember how she felt about the situation. And two, it also means that her closest memories will theoretically center around the things she most needed to forget…presumably, Logan, Seattle, and Eyes Only…."

"And how about things that aren't theories," Lydecker seethed, breaking into the current conversation. "How about the fact that as we sit here, calmly discussing the ways your sister forget about her friends, that Manticore is out there looking for her. And that she is eventually going wake up and attempt to figure out how to get back to them. Where, I might add, she will promptly tell them where Eyes Only is, where you are, and how to find you."

His voice was like spark to a simmering fire – Max's emotions exploded inside her, she could barely think for all the anger and confusion that was clashing and streaming in her head – god, she hated that man. It also seemed to set off her siblings, all of whom seemed dangerously on edge, the product of their close escape.

"We get it Lydecker!" Seth bellowed. "Max is turned. Is that what you want to hear?! You want us to admit how our baby sister just betrayed us to or worst enemy. How we almost ended up back in hell as her gift wrapped package and she used Zack as bait!"

It was the waver in his voice, the emotion in it that made Max's stomach sink. If they wanted to hold a trial, she could save them the trouble: she was guilty as charged.

"We need to ask her where he is. She might tell us now." Jondy stated, hoping to defuse the tense situation.

"What, Jondy?! You think she'll just spill where Zack is? It's her leverage over us, and she knows it." Zane remarked, for once no hint of humor in his voice.

"It's worth a try."

"Face it. Until Max gets her memory back she's a danger to herself and to us. She sees us as the enemy."

"That doesn't mean she's our enemy," Jondy stubbornly insisted.

"Both Zane and Lydecker have a point though," Coreen added darkly. "How do we keep Max from turning us in?"

"Like I said before," Lydecker coolly stated, ever the soldier. "We need to figure out how Max was turned, what method Manticore used, and how to contain her. Otherwise, we're running up against a brick wall. "

"Care to explain that Lydecker," Derek questioned.

Max wasn't sure she wanted to hear this, something told her she wouldn't like the answers she received.

"Max would have come back to Manticore, even after her memory loss, with all her childhood knowledge of the place – including the reason she ran. Command would have needed to break Max of her dislike of the place in order to make her loyal…"

Although Max couldn't see it, a shudder ran through her brothers and sisters, and quietly, Jondy made her way to stand beside Logan and put a supportive hand on his arm.

"… Manticore uses different methods for its indoctrination process. But, the most common means is a sort of chemical and visual assault on the bodies processing system. When the method has been completed the subject loses any ability to self-reflect, to go into his or her inner mind and relate to past experiences. The soldier essentially becomes a vessel for sensory data. She responses to what's around her, but can't relate it to past experiences. Eventually, the mind begins to build new associations, but not until psyops has filtered in messages about loyalty and duty to Manticore. Getting back what has been lost after such a procedure can be difficult."

Max's mind did a series of calculations and came to a conclusion that was voiced by Krit…

"Brin."

"Yes. Your other sister was reindoctrinated by that method."

"So why are we just hearing about this now." It was Logan's voice that was speaking, low and steady but with an unmistakable edge to it. "Didn't you assume Max had undergone the same treatment when she returned?"

"I suspected it, certainly, but there are… signs that I've been watching out for that Max never exhibited. Characteristics that are indicative of individuals who had gone through that method." Lydecker responded.

"What signs?" Derek asked.

"A certain clipped, machine-like quality to the subject's voice. Nearly non-existent emotions, calm to the point of unresponsiveness. And very literal interpretations of one's surroundings… often the subject can't decipher levels of sarcasm or irony in another's voice."

An unwilling chuckle burst from Zane and, if she could have seen it, Max would have noticed a few smiles from the others as well.

"I can see why Max didn't apply." Logan stated dryly.

The storm that was threatening Max's well-being continued to pick up speed at Lydecker's words. She was remembering a hundred different conversations with Brin, the faraway look in her eyes, the small signs of emotions that had never felt totally genuine… It made sense and filled with her pity as she remembered her own terrifying moments when her inner mind had nearly been destroyed and her inner thoughts invaded, the moments before Eva had come to her.

Again Max was confronted with evidence that it was Manticore who had lied to her, an effort that had been spear headed by Brin. Why else would they have felt the need to put her through the process if she hadn't been coming in from a long time on the outside?

She wasn't an idiot; she could feel the evidence mount, but still Max clung to her love for her other family, sure that Brin was beginning to make progress, sure that there had to be another explanation if she could just speak to her friends.

"So let's assume Max wasn't turned like that," Logan pressed, his voice jarring Max from her thoughts. "How did she resist it?"

"I don't know." Lydecker unequivocally replied.

"What other methods could they have used?" Derek asked, interest creeping in despite himself.

"The other methods tend to be cruder. Torture. Isolation. Verbal assault. But, as you see, fear doesn't seem to be at the heart of Max's conversion. She seemed willing to betray you of her own free will."

"So where do we go from here?" Syl asked, voicing the question everyone, including Max, was thinking. "I mean, it's not clear what's going on with her. She offered us up to Manticore with one breath and then saved my life with the next."

"It could be Max is fighting off the effects of her indoctrination," Lydeckered commented, "in which case it would be most advantageous of us to pursue that line of questioning."

"And what about her memory loss?" Krit asked. "I mean, we're so close to getting this."

"First Manticore, then her memory." Lydecker's voice warned.

Max wasn't sure what it was, but she knew something was happening in the room, something unrelated to Lydecker's words. She had no way of knowing that all eight of her sibling's eyes were directed at Logan - that the stiffness of his shoulders and the sudden blaze in his eyes signified that something had clicked.

All Max knew for sure was that Jondy's voice came out quietly and questioningly: "Logan?"

Deciding that now, while her siblings were distracted, would be a good time to get a look at the layout of the room, she cracked her eyes ever so slightly. Through her eyelashes, Max viewed the room's occupants. Lydecker was farthest from the group, pacing in front of hallway. Zane and Derek sat on the love-seat next to her, the latter paused in his actions of wrapping a bandage around Zane's forearms. Coreen was sitting in the chair, her legs propped up and a bag of ice on her swollen face. Almost everyone, except Krit and Derek, was covered in bruises and scrapes, and everybody's' eyes were directed at the tall, handsome ordinary in the room, whose own contained a searing look, directed right at Max.

If he saw her eyes move, he gave no sign, but instead directed his question to Krit: "You two sure it's Eyes Only that's the final memory and not Seattle? Max use to sit on the Space Needle a lot, think about things, it was an important place for her. That view might be the key."

"Nearly positive." Krit replied, "She'd have wanted to forget Seattle's significance to her life, and if she wiped her memory of Eyes Only before removing Seattle – and with all the other memories gone – she wouldn't have been able to recognize why she should remove it. Plus, the space needle would have been too risky. They surely would have shown it to her. Even if Max doesn't remember Seattle, Manticore surely did."

She couldn't see the nod Logan gave, or the way he gripped the box in front of him tighter. In fact, all she could concentrate on was her own turbulent thoughts that were desperately seeking order in the chaos that reigned inside her.

The way her siblings spoke, the hope in their voices – everything, confirmed their story. She found herself actively rejecting that idea, looking for any means of finding an error. As the tempest inside her reached a fevered pitch, Max realized if they were on the level , if her family was right, that would mean all that she'd done in the past few months had been deeply, unforgiveable wrong. The night Valjean died came back to her in haunting accuracy, the live ordinance exercises, the times she had chosen Manticore over escape, and most accusingly, her exploitation of Zack's memory. They just couldn't be right because then everyone and everything Max believed in was untrue.

It was too much, and without warning Max opened her eyes and moved into attack mode, determined to kick the ass of all her self-doubts.

It was Lydecker who addressed her first: "Stand down soldier. You're out-numbered and out-flanked."

The steel in his voice coupled with the military command helped Max retain her outward appearance of calm, as she bit out with attitude: "Make me, Donald."

"Listen up, soldier, I want to know to whom do your loyalties lie? Under whose command do you serve?"

The formality of it made Max answer back instinctively: "My loyalty is to my unit and my country."

For the past twenty years, Donald Lydecker had been hoping for such a response from his kids. The fact it was Max who said it made it even more poignant for the Colonel, and for the first time in the X5s' collective memory he faltered, at a loss for words.

It was Derek who stepped up, versed enough in psyops to know what it was about Max's reply that was unusual, what she hadn't said. "What about the chain of command? Is your loyalty to your commanding officer?"

The hesitation Max felt caused her pause. Through her mind flashed all the horrific acts Renfro had exercised on her person over the past few months – the torture, the psyops evalutions, the humiliation, the breeding program… "I serve all those loyal to the will of the United States," she reiterated, politic in her answer.

"And what about those who are not loyal? Who are they?" Derek pressed.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the internal affairs of my barracks, if you'd be interested in taking a tour of the facilities I'm sure that could be arranged."

"Dammit, Max," Seth bit off, "how could you say something that twisted."

Derek held up his hand to silence Seth.

Jondy was the next to speak: "And what about your family Max, doesn't any of your loyalty belong to us? Don't we deserve something?"

Max didn't answer, she simply stood there, stone-faced as her inner walls began to crumble.

"Tell us what you know, Maxie." Derek coaxed. "We're your family. You can trust us."

Suddenly images that Max had been repressing came back with ferocious strength – she saw dozens of images flash before her eyes: Her siblings marching down corridors, participating in training exercises, sneaking up to the roof. She saw Zack's prone body in a pile of snow being zapped by adult soldiers with tazers as she ran; she saw Eva dead on the floor; she saw Jack…

She had betrayed them; betrayed them all, and unable to contain it, Max let vent to the storm raging inside her.

"You're my family, huh?" Max demanded, furious and irrational. "Then where were you for the first six years after the escape? You know, when I was cold and lonely and scared? Where were any of you the first time I had to steal food so I wouldn't starve or the first time the shakes came on me so bad I thought I was going to die in the abandoned warehouse I was crashing in? What about the first time some creep came on to me? Do you know how old I was when that happened? I'd been out of Manticore three weeks – I was nine and had no idea what the sicko wanted!"

Max stared into the faces of her stunned brother and sisters, who were all reliving their own moments after the escape,"… I'll tell you where you were. Every one of us was far too busy saving our own hides. We were out for number uno, saving our own selves from our own horrors– and if one of us was sick or hurt, then it was just too bad. Because we were on our own. We stopped being a family the second we escaped."

"That's not true, Max. And somewhere not so deep down I think you know it. No matter what Manticore did to you, I know that you know we're still a family." Jondy answered back, her own voice shaking with emotion.

"Yeah, a really great family. Guess I missed your latest Christmas card, Jondy. It's a little difficult to send well-wishes when you don't even know where in the hell your family is. Who cares about things like actually being there…"

"Is that why you attempted to turn us in to Manticore, Max? You wanted us to be together?" Derek quietly probed, as the beginnings of the strategy they had used to convert Max began to surface.

"Maybe just maybe, I wanted us to be a real family, again." Max conceded. "At least at Manticore we'd be together. You wouldn't have to hide or fight for yourselves – we could be together and fight for a cause. That's what it's really like in there – it's your unit, your family, helping you out, working together. It might be gray and dark and difficult, but it isn't so bad when everyone's together."

"Damn, I didn't think she had it in her…" Lydecker stated, shaking his head.

"Excuse me?!" Jondy nearly shouted.

"Renfro, the director," Lydecker clarified. "I didn't think she'd have the sense to use a more subtle form of manipulation like this. The bitch is usually after blood."

Max snorted, unable to help herself. The description was apt.

The eyes of Logan and Max's siblings exchanged meaningful looks, before Jondy finally nodded, stepping forward to take the lead.

"You want to know where we were, Maxie, all these years?" she began. "We were right there with you. Stealing, scared and lonely. We might not have been there for you in body, but Max, we were there with you in spirit. You were never alone, not even in that abandoned warehouse or on the top of the Space Needle."

The guilt pressing down on Max threatened to burst through all of her Manticore defenses, she couldn't take them looking at her with eyes of love and understanding, couldn't stand their compassion. They needed to know who and what they were dealing with. Max could take their anger, but there love was too much.

"I went back…," she confessed, her manner still confrontational, daring them to ignore the implication behind her words. "to Manticore. I went back three years ago of my own free will, and I've been hunting you down ever since. So all that stuff about how I'm your sister, about how all I need to do is tell you and it will all be better… You should know who you dealing with – Brin, Tinga, Ben…. I'm the one that tracked them down, found them to bring them home, back to Manticore."

Max allowed her words to hang out there, to sink in. She was their huntress; they her prey. And until they recognized it, they couldn't proceed. What stared back at her were nine pairs of astonished eyes, Lydecker simply look satisfied. But the eyes didn't immediately fill with disgust as she thought they would. Instead, the eyes began to look back and forth, in counsel with one another until Derek, the one who'd always excelled at psychological warfare, nodded to Jondy, the most emotionally apt of the group, and stepped forward to help.

"And the genetics lab?" Derek asked. It was the flaw in her story, the one thing Manticore couldn't explain.

"I was on the outside, tracking down Zack when I ran into either him or Lydecker," Max responded, her emotions once again covered by the military click as she related events she had no memory of. "I'm not sure if they hooked up before or after, but my guess is that Lydecker put me in a situation where I felt Manticore secrets could be compromised. I initiated the blanking technique, and in my weakened state they, Syl and Krit convinced me to betray my unit. The rest you know…"

"Unit?" Lydecker scoffed, stepping up. "Mere hacks compared to the group of you."

"They're my family!" Max growled, stepping threatening toward Lydecker.

"We're your family," Jondy yelled back. "None of what you're saying is true, Max. Manticore lied to you, manipulated you. You weren't alone, none of us were. Zack found us all. One by one, he tracked us after our escape and kept us safe. We might not have agreed with his methods, but there was never anyone with nobler intentions. A child himself, Max, and he found us and watched out for us like the big brother he was. That's us, that's our family."

"Zack's dead!" Max spat, determined to finally make them despise her. "He's dead and I knew it!"

Shocked eyes stared back at her, stunned by her admission, trying to come to terms with it.

"And you know what else?" Max relentlessly continued.

"No, don't say it, Max" Jondy pleaded, suddenly aware what she was going to say.

"Too bad, sister, because it's true. I killed him. It was my fault!" Max finished, an almost triumphant gleam in her eyes.

It didn't make them even, not by a long-shot, but Donald Lydecker did something just then that went a little ways toward making amends to his kids.

"And how did you do that, soldier?" he taunted. "Gun, explosives, poison? How exactly did you kill your CO?"

"I…" Max stopped, unsure of how to proceed.

"You survived a gun-shot wound point nearly point blank to the heart. How did you do that?" Lydecker asked, letting everyone draw the connection.

"You knew?!" Max challenged, anger sweeping through here. How dare he play with them if he really knew what had happened. How dare he let her walk them into a trap!

"No, I didn't. But let's just say I'm aware of Manticore's persuasion techniques." Lydecker responded.

Whatever one wanted to say about Donald Lydecker, it couldn't be said that he didn't know his kids. He had known Zack blind-folded and tied to a chair, had recognized his anger. He also knew Zack's loyalty and sense of responsibility. In the same breath, he knew Max hadn't been responsible for his death, at least not in the traditional sense. Aware of the way words could be twisted, he saw it all with perfect clarity.

"Renfro did a hell of a job convincing you that you were responsive for your brother's death."

"Convince her of what? What's going on," Syl demanded.

"Your brother's heart," Lydeckered told them. "Lives on in your sister."

Max stalked closer to him, determined to silence his words. But as his meaning penetrated her siblings' minds, Max heard the gasp of realization and needed to make them understand.

"He felt guilty the mission went sideways, knew that he'd betray his command." Max attempted to explain.

"Get real, soldier!" Lydecker answered. "You know that didn't happen. Those are Renfro's words. Face it, she lied to you. Your unit lied to you. Even your sister, Brin, lied to you."

Max tried to stop the truth pouring into her ears and into her consciousness. It threatened to engulf her and drown out the voices of her unit, of Manticore. Turning to face the room of siblings, even as she strove to put physical distance between them, Max saw the understanding and love.

How desperately she wanted to capitulate to it… to them. Images of loyalty, duty, service flashed before her eyes, Manticore's message, but it failed to quail her inner turmoil or her siblings' empathy.

Finally, she began to respond: "I…"

But before another syllable would be uttered a large crash of shattering glass was heard, and within an X5 flash, Troy was by her side, a semi-automatic weapon in hand, pointed directly at Lydecker.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Move and I kill your commander!" he barked, never wavering in his vigilance.

"Commander?" Zane couldn't help but respond. "Sorry. You got the wrong group, buddy."

Troy's attention wasn't distracted by Zane's quip, and in a low undertone asked: "You alright, Max? Can you move?"

"Yes." Quickly she came to stand beside him.

Troy had been waiting for this, a moment when Max's figure would become separated from the crowd of X5s, when he'd have a clear shot at Lydecker. It was their best chance for escape, and he intended on using it.

"Listen up. All I want is Max. The rest of you can scatter. It should be a few hours before we can make it back to command and get a response unit together to begin pursuit. Ample time for you to get a head start."

"Hell of a risk, soldier," Lydecker comment. "Coming in without your unit. One might think you'd breached op set to come get her. Hardly the actions of an X5, let alone a Commanding Officer…"

"I wouldn't concern myself with that if I were you." Troy barked, refusing to be intimidated. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to let Max go back? Or are we going to see how many of you I can bring down before you can disarm me."

"Troy!" Max warned, attempting to get his attention.

"Not now, 452" he commanded. He meant business, and if he had to take down a few of her siblings to get her out… then so be it.

"Logan." Krit stated, a covert signal to intercede.

The unexpected sound drew Max's attention back to the man standing catty corner to them. The oddly familiar ordinary, who so disturbed her. She saw that his jaw was clenching in agitation and his eyes refused to blink, remaining intensely focused on her and Troy.

"I'm surprised she puts up with that," said Logan with a grim smile, his position almost as near as Lydecker's. "She was never good at taking orders."

Max felt the smallest tug of an answering smile, but held back as she shifted toward the exit. They needed to get out of there before any of her siblings got hurt.

"Back off," was Troy's only reply.

"Max." Logan began again, directing his words solely to her. "Listen to me. You know that something's off with Manticore's story. You need to believe us, believe me, that you haven't been there for the past three years. You've been here, in Seattle, living a normal life. That's what you blocked out, that's what you can't remember, you were attempting to protect us..."

"Quiet!" Troy demanded, unintentionally taking a step closer to Max.

"Max, this is your chance to ask someone. Ask him, if you've really be in Manticore. " Logan's eyes pleaded with hers, and against her will Max found herself seeking out Troy's glance – asking for confirmation.

"One more word and I shoot." Troy responded, moving his aim from Lydecker to Logan.

Logan's eyes blazed, but he made no move to talk, aware that the X5 wasn't bluffing. A few heartbeats they stood like that before Max's hands wrapped around Troy's forearms, pulling his target off Logan.

"Max?" X624 asked.

"They won't stop us." Max answered. "Let's go."

As soon as Troy's gun was removed, Logan began speaking again, aware of how close he was to losing her: "I know you feel guilty, Max. Responsible for everything that's happened. But listen to me, you have nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of." His words were deliberately evocative of their past, hoping some trace of remembered emotion would slip through her screen.

Although Max gave no outward signs of recognition, she didn't turn to leave either.

"Just do me one favor. Look at what's in this box Max. I think it might be your memory trigger. The thing that you relate to Eyes Only… the private symbol that you could have run into during your public travels. At least look at it. What have you got to lose?"

In his hands was a shiny wooden box, so seemingly innocuous. Could it really contain the key to her memories? Without coming to any outward decision, Max gaze wondered up to Logan's own. His eyes seemed to grip her with a stunning force, refusing to let her go, and almost imperceptibly Max nodded.

"Make one move toward opening that thing and I'll kill you where you stand," Troy's voice broke into the moment.

"Troy?" Max asked, but didn't look at him, unable to tear her gaze away from Logan's and the unknown object in the box.

"We don't know what it contains. It could be weapon of some kind." 624 attempted to temporize. Nothing about his voice revealed his own inner turmoil or the fear that began to spread within him as he thought about the implication of this man being right.

"We're leaving now, that's a direct order." Grabbing Max's forearm, Troy gave her a hard tug, pulling her away from the lure of other man, who he already hated.

It was the stupidest thing he could have done. It told Max everything she needed to know.

She pulled her arm away from her CO's grasp, stepped in front of the gun's aim, and firmly stated: "Open it."

In mere seconds, Logan had unlatched the box and set out its content.

Sitting in front of her was the golden Statue of Bast.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It wasn't like lightning bolt or a hammer. The memories didn't flood back like a tidal wave. It was more gradual than that. More like watching an old silent film where the flickering of the frames was discernable.

It drew her in, away from the present, and into a past she was just recalling.

_Max felt herself creeping down a hallway. After a moment, she recognized the location – she was in the same apartment that she currently stood. Except it was dark, nearly all the lights were out, and her body felt tense and ready for action – as if she were unwelcome intruder worried about being caught._

_She continued to creep along, taking small, expensive looking objects from the shelves and placing them in a small bag in her hand. The implication was obvious; she was a thief. _

_Everything was silent; everything that is until a familiar voice penetrated the silence. It was a voice she had heard dozens of time – slightly skewed, but familiar nonetheless. The words set off a bolt of further recognition. _

_Eyes Only._

_The memory was slightly disorienting. Max knew she recognized the words, "Do not attempt to adjust your set..," but she couldn't remember from when. Nothing about where she knew this from came back to her; though she knew that it should._

_Silently, she crept around the barrier separating her from the voice. Although the person who was speaking was turned away from her, his face was visible in the monitor facing her. _

No name came with the face. If she hadn't already met the man behind the mask, she wouldn't have been able to locate him, wouldn't have known that he was Seattle's savior, and she couldn't have linked him the expensive building in sector 9.

No… whatever else Max had done when she had forgotten this particular memory, she had made damn sure that no one else would be able to find this man. She had protected him… and not from Lydecker, that much was apparent.

_She listened to the cable hack, but the words didn't interest to her. Slowly, she turned her head and saw the lovely golden statue on a raised platform. She reached for it and smiled just as the memory began to dissipate._

There was a bit more, but Max had no time to ponder it as a harsh voice jarred her back to reality.

"Max! Listen to me. Everyone – Brin, Alec, Biggs – they're waiting to see you. We have news on Renfro we need to discuss and the longer we say here the more danger everybody's in. Please. Come now."

A command would never have done it, could never persuaded her to leave. But Troy's request reached her. As Max's eyes lifted from the statue they briefly connected with Logan's. He could of sworn he saw a flicker of recognition, and the extended pause after he'd shown her the statue was enough to give him hope.

But he couldn't be sure.

Quickly, Max turned away and before he could do more than call to her once: "Max!!" she was gone, up the rope that led to the roof top and out of Logan's and her sibling's lives.

And despite the pain, the feeling of defeat, the poetic symmetry wasn't lost on Logan as Max fled his life exactly the way she had come into it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**A thank you to Lisa for her beta and continued support of this story! TBC...**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel or the books that some of this information regarding Max's first meeting with Original Cindy was inspired from.**

**A/N: I just wanted to thank those who reviewed or sent a person message for my last two chapters. I was struggling with some writer's block and your words of encouragement pushed me through it. Also, a continued thanks to the helpful and witty Lisa who's a wonderful beta and excellent revealer of the mysterious ways of fanfic. **

**So, hopefully back to regular updates…**

**Fogle Towers…**

A stunned silence presided over the penthouse. For a moment no one moved, simply stared at the empty spot where Max had been only moments before.

Each was wrapped up in his or her own thoughts, processing the new information that was laid out before them – Max was gone, Zack was dead, and Manticore would be back on their trail in a few hours.

After a few moments, Lydecker's voice broke into their thoughts: "If anyone is going after them, you'd better go now. They already have a head start."

"What's the point?" Krit stubbornly asked. "None of us are going to catch Max in a game of escape and evade."

"It only takes one mess up," Lydecker reminded him. "And your sister isn't traveling alone."

"She wants to go back," Seth challenged.

"Your sister doesn't know what she wants right now," Lydecker admonished. "My guess is that's she's pretty confused."

Silence met his words, and so Lydecker pressed: "Do I need to remind you what's going to happen if Max and X624 make it back to Manticore? The pursuit will be fast and furious and they won't just be hunting X5s…" he insinuated, nodding toward Logan's stiff figure, which was still turned to the spot Max had last been. "If you don't do this now, you won't have an opportunity for it later."

"I'll go," stated Jondy. "I left her once, during the escape. I'm not going to do it again."

"I'll go with you," Derek replied. "I think we're going to need both our specialties to get through to her."

"If you can't find her by 0300, report back to my base of operation and prepare to redeploy." Lydecked commanded.

It was a signal of their shocked state that they just nodded in submission.

After Jondy and Derek left, the silence once again took over the penthouse. No eye contact was made, until finally, in an emotionally charged voice Syl asked, "Do you think Zack is really dead? Or was Max just messing with us, an attempt at psychological manipulation?"

Clearing his voice and assuming an erect military stance, Lydecker took up the question: "She was telling the truth. Zack's gone."

"How can you be so sure," demanded Krit. "You said it yourself; Max is confused. She might be misinformed."

"You'll remember that when we were first exploring the possibility that your sister survived her wound I expressed doubt that a donor or nano heart would be available; the first I doubted because I knew the banks were empty when I left Manticore, the second because it is still in the trial stages and the technology base is located too far from the current facility to get to Max in time. I think it's safe to say that I was right on both accounts, and yet your sister is still alive and convinced that she's responsible for Zack's death. You do the math."

"Maybe they used the hearts of some of the soldiers we killed," interjected Syl, grasping at straws.

Shaking his head ruefully, Lydecker once again stripped away their hope. "She, and all of you, needs an X5 heart. Regular hearts lack the stamina to keep you going; your heart beats have a more powerful pump to them, which allows them to supply your hyper-charged systems with the amount of sustenance it needs to function during high performance moments. You're the first group that we got it right with …nearly all the X4s were wiped out by heart-attacks."

"Maybe…" Syl began.

"Listen to me." Lydecker demanded. "I know you don't want to hear this, but Zack was born and bred a commander in the greatest sense of that word. He knew your strengths, saw you weakness, and knew how to push you. He also saw your safety as his highest priority. I don't have to see what happened to know what transpired. I wasn't there when your uprising for the escape began either, what I saw was Max seizing, Eva with a gun…" as a group, they shifted restlessly, eyes turning hard as they looked at him. "but I know, by knowing each of you, that it was Zack who began the escape. He would have taken out the first guard."

"You talked to them afterwards!" Krit challenged.

"The guards couldn't tell you apart – sometimes not even the males from the females. But I know Zack. His sense of protectiveness was so heightened it would have demanded that he protect any one of you, but especially Max."

Taking a breath, Lydecker continued: "He would never have been able to rest with Manticore hunting you. He would always have needed to protect you at whatever cost to himself. Max lying there, dead or dying… well he wouldn't have allowed that to happen."

"Manticore didn't kill him?" Syl asked, her voice slightly wild. "They didn't trade in his life for Max's"

"No. As far as command would have been concerned, one is as good as the other. I think you know what happened too."

They didn't shed any tears, it wasn't their way. But the grief they bore inside was deep enough to drown a thousand other more vocal responses. It spoke of their abiding love and affection. He wasn't just their brother, he was the closest thing to a father any of them had ever known… and he was gone.

Moments of silence went on uninterrupted - when a soldier dies you pay your respects. And they did, but reality was pulling them away from their grief.

It was Seth who finally asked of them, "What now?"

"We retreat to my alternate base of operation. The one Max was never brought to, and we wait for Jondy and Derek to report in. If they're unable to contain and subdue, then you'll scatter and go underground… we'll need to set up a rendezvous point at coordinates far from here."

As they let that information percolate, Krit remembered the other difficulty that had arisen: "Logan?"

Logan hadn't moved from the spot he had been in. Over and over, he had seen Max's face as he opened the box. He had been so sure that it had sparked some memory inside her.

In fact, he had been sure that it would work even before she saw it, confident that he had found her first trigger. But just in case, he'd made sure to drop hints to Max, as soon as he saw signs that she was waking, what another potential trigger could be. He just hoped it worked…

Speaking for the first time since Max's abrupt departure, he stated: "It's fine. I'm going to be staying here for the time being."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Sector 7…**

Max sped through the streets of Seattle accelerating the throttle on her motorcycle as Troy held on behind her.

She didn't know why she'd grabbed the machine when she left. It just looked so appealing, and Max had desperately wanted to be in control of something after the last scene – hell after the last seven months. But it was stupid and against protocol, they should have hijacked an unidentifiable car or hitched a ride. Besides, it wasn't like Manticore would let her keep it once she got back. But then again, that depended on if she was going back.

Although Max had responded willingly to Troy's request, her mind had continued to go over and over the supposed memory, trying to make heads or tails of its sudden appearance. The fact that it was so brief, containing only a face that she could link to an alias, seemed to suggest that Max had wanted to protect Eyes Only.

But protect from whom? Lydecker already knew who Logan was, as did all her siblings. That left only one potential candidate. The implication wasn't lost of Max.

Deciding for once to take a good hard look at her siblings' theory, she tried to think what she would have done if she really was protecting Logan from Manticore. Her siblings seemed to think that she had splintered her memory into different parts to protect him. If that were the case, Max figured she not only would have buried them in an order to make it difficult for Manticore to access them, but she also would have placed them in an order that would lead to their logical retrieval.

Which begged the question - if Max had stumbled on the Egyptian Goddess Bast's image on her own, without the intervention of her siblings, what would she have done next?

The answer was simple. She would have found out who Eyes Only was, and that knowledge would have inevitably led her to Seattle. But that brought up another difficulty, where in Seattle was she to look?

As she steered her beloved bike around a sharp corner, Max suddenly caught a glimpse of the Space Needle shining out from the diminished Seattle sky line. Immediately, Logan's words came back to her. According to him, this had been a spot of great importance to her. She used to sit up on top of it and stare down at the people…

It made sense that it might be her next stop on her road down memory lane, which led Max to wonder if Logan hadn't been aware of her conscious state the entire time he'd been speaking. She didn't put it past him; the man seemed to be a tactical genius of sorts. If he had realized she was feigning sleep, perhaps he would have used those few moments before chaos resumed to convey a message. A message that would reach her even as she sped off toward Manticore.

Coming into a place where she had a clear view of the structure, Max slowed down and pondered her next move…

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

"Logan you can't stay here. You've been exposed." Syl argued.

"She's right, son," Lydecker added. "Max could call in a strike team at any moment. It could be here in an hour."

"But she won't," Logan answered, assured. "I think we've established that her reprogramming, whatever it may have accomplished, didn't turn her into a remorseless killing machine. She may have wanted you back at Manticore, but she obviously couldn't stand to see her siblings dead."

"She may have no problems with that where you're concerned," Lydecker warned, refusing to temporize his response.

"You may be right," Logan steadily replied. "But she won't take the chance with them. Command already betrayed her expectations when they attempted to kill her siblings. She won't take the risk that they'd do the same now."

"Hell of gamble you're taking." Lydecker stated.

"Maybe. But just the same, I'm going to hang around here until 0300, same as you. If we don't hear from Max by then, I'll relocate to a safe house I have lined up."

"What about your files?" Krit questioned.

"I'm on it."

When Logan saw their hesitation, their unwillingness to leave him, he firmly commanded. "Go. I'll be fine. You know how to contact me."

A curt nod from Krit was all he received, but they did as he asked. The X5s moved to a more secure location, while Logan began to transfer his necessary files to disk, all the while knowing that if Max really gave Manticore his identity there would be no safe house that would protect him from their wrath.

Despite his hope, Logan knew there was a chance that it would be Max who brought down Eyes Only.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Sector 7…**

"Why are we stopping?" Troy challenged as soon as he felt the motorcycle losing speed.

"I need some answers," Max clipped, pulling the bike to a complete stop.

"You'll be debriefed when we get to the rendezvous point. Until then, let's move out."

"Shove it with the command routine, Troy, I'm not in the mood," Max replied, attitude oozing from her voice.

"Need I remind you that I am your CO, and that was a direct order?"

"You're not my CO right now. If I'm not mistaken this little side mission of yours is against protocol. So either cool it with the G.I Joe act or you can walk back to base by yourself."

Giving the smallest sigh in defeat, a signal that suddenly made him seem very human, Troy conceded, getting off the bike a walking forward to face her: "What do you need to know, Max?"

"Did you give orders to the soldiers to terminate my siblings?"

Looking her squarely in the eyes, Troy answered: "No."

"Did you know about it?"

"No."

"Would you have tried to stop it if you did?" Max asked, searching his pale blue eyes for truth.

Hesitating only slightly, Troy answered: "No. Probably not."

"So you just would have killed them… shot them in cold blood?" Max demanded, her voice filling with outrage.

Again, Troy hesitated, for once unsure of his actions. "It's not that easy, Max. I'm a soldier; I follow orders, but…"

"But?" Max pressed.

"The information we received… the intel we're going to share with you when we meet up with the others, indicates that Renfro is a double agent, serving someone beside the U.S. government. Alec found the information right before we left. And also…"

Max raised her eyebrow at the pause, refusing to give him a respite from their conversation.

"I know what they mean to you, Max. I wouldn't have wanted to execute the command. I don't disobey orders, but the thought of what it would do to you… I just couldn't."

The vulnerability in his eyes reminded her of the night, not so very long ago, when he'd disobeyed command in order to take Alec's place as her breeding partner. What Max saw then was reaffirmed now, both by his looks and his actions.

He cared for her, and not as a commander.

Maybe it was wrong to exploit tactical advantage in such a case, but Max did it anyway. Staring back into his emotive pale eyes, she asked gently, but insistently: "Troy, did I come back to Manticore three years ago?"

"Max…" it was a plea not to push him. On this one thing, to let it go.

"I need to know, to hear it from you." Max's eyes begged.

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"Well it shouldn't. You're home now, with us, your real family. The people that care about you. Do you really want to leave us?"

It was said in the plural tense, but Max knew what he meant. Steeping off her bike, Max walked closer to him, before she lifted her hand and put it against his cheek.

"You're not Manticore. None of you are. You're not responsible for what they made you do. If I were to leave Manticore, that doesn't mean that I'd be leaving you. And you're part of my family, Troy, no matter what happens, nothing will change that. But I need to know, please, tell me the truth."

Her touch undid him. Although Manticore soldiers were equipped to deal with the most painful of punches, the most deadly of weapons, the most agonizing of torture techniques, they had never been trained to deal with the intimacy of a caress. It crumbled all his defense mechanisms.

"No. You were capture seven and half months ago after the genetic lab explosion."

Max nodded and gave one more sweep of her thumb across his cheek before stating: "Let's go."

"Where?" Troy asked, even as he got on the bike behind her.

"There." Max nodded across the bay and to the darkness behind. There was no clarification given before the motorcycle revved loudly and took off.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

Logan stared at the computer screen admiring the irony of the scenario.

For an entire year, he had dreamed of one hope, one thing that would set him free and restore his life… a cure. And now here he was, looking at the description of a medical trial conducted nearly a decade ago describing a treatment, not terribly different from the one Dr. Vertes had begun to put him through, that had repaired the full-break spinal injury of one paraplegic using Manticore gained technology. It gave a description of the procedure, the chemical compounds, the dosage, the patient… everything. And Logan had learned about it three weeks ago and had yet to do anything about it.

Nothing, not one thing, not even looking up the man, Howard Bethel, whom the experiment had been conducted on to see if he was still walking. Logan felt an inexplicable urge to laugh or cry. The same person who had been delivering hope to him for that entire year had brought him this.

Max. His divine messenger, who had saved him on numerous occasions, had given him this through a disk she had smuggled out of Manticore. The disk, which Krit had given him to explore, contained many important items. It contained the notes and files of over three dozen top scientists who had set their mind to curing a number of degenerative and previously untreatable ailment, and from what Logan could tell, they had come close on several scores. It also contained detailed genetic information on the X5s, including their personal files. And finally, it included a series of internal communications among the movers and shakers of Manticore, linking previously unknown names to clandestine project.

It was literally a treasure trove of invaluable, irreplaceable information - but the one thing that was most important to Logan, the one thing that had held his attention since learning of it, wasn't the long sought after cure. It was the women herself who had imparted her fingerprints on the carrying case, and had alerted them to her existence. Despite everything else, it had been her continued survival which had been the focal point of Logan's world for the past month, everything else falling to the wayside.

Finally giving into the urge, Logan let out a mirthless laugh before transferring the information and moving onto the next case file.

Ironic. Over a year later and he would gladly trade the cure for the messenger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Space Needle…**

"So tell me about the information you scored on Renfro," Max began as she got off her bike.

"Max… why are we here?" Troy questioned, as he examined the graffiti filled base and dirty, broken gate of the former icon.

"I'm looking for something," Max replied vaguely, making her way to the structure's entrance.

Stopping her with a hand on her forearm, Troy asked: "That statue of the cat before, it was your memory trigger, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. So?" Max bantered, shaking off his arm and continuing her walk.

"Then you knew before you asked me that Manticore was lying."

"I had a pretty good hunch."

"So why ask?" Troy continued to press, completely bewildered as to her motivations.

"I wanted to know if you'd tell me the truth. " Max shrugged.

"And if I hadn't?" Troy demanded, a sickening feeling in his stomach.

"We would have taken very different roads tonight." Max calmly replied before continuing her walk to the top. "Now tell me what you know about Renfro."

XXXX

The wind was blowing in fitful gusts, swirling Max's hair around her lithe form as she stepped out onto the observation deck. The wind was most assuredly a product of the storm, but the source of Max's sudden unease remained a mystery.

Softly, almost reverently, she tiptoed across the surface. Troy was still inside, his eyes glued to her back, held there only by her request to do this alone.

At first, there was nothing. Although Max felt a sense of peace wash over her as she walked the distance of the roof – no memories came to her. It was only when she was settled, finally looking down at the innumerable buildings and homes below her that Max suddenly felt the flickering of a memory beginning to cloud her vision. Swiftly, the movie of her memory flood her senses, blocking out the present and taking her to a forgotten night, one clearer and warmer than this one, when she had stepped out onto this roof for the first time:

_The graffiti was everywhere, marring the surface of the structure, one more sign of the decay that had swept through the U.S. since the pulse. Max didn't feel sad or upset by the sight, merely storing it away as continued evidence that the world was a broken, irreparable mess._

_However, as she reached the point when she could finally get an unhindered glance at the city below her, Max felt pleased by the sight. From here, she could see everybody and everything – she could be alone, but also know that she wasn't alone . It was… nice. The crisp spring air seemed clearer up here, as if it too felt free from the cumbersome world below. _

_Thinking over the past few days, Max recalled her run-in with a loud-mouthed lesbian whom she'd encountered on the road from Los Angeles. They had met in a biker bar, the women had been giving hell to a man who'd propositioned her, and Max had interceded when several other bikers had joined into the fray, making the odds unfair. _

_The woman, Original Cindy, and Max had clicked after that. They'd chatted and laughed, and when Max contemplated where she should go, her time in L.A. now over, the woman had persuaded her to join her in Seattle. It was reason enough, and although Max never bothered to make long-term acquaintances, she found herself wanting to continue this… friendliness, with Original Cindy._

_It wasn't the first time Max had desired making a connection with somebody, but recently things had begun to change for her. The longing for normalcy had started to outweigh the constant fear that was her companion since escaping from Manticore eight years ago. It was that desire which made Max do something she rarely did, she had told the woman her actual name rather than making up an alias that would serve for a few weeks. Almost as if she intended to stay here instead of continuing on to Canada or the Midwest, which had been her original plan. _

_In fact, Max had gathered some leads on a few apartments that might serve as fairly nice places to live, rather than the rat-holes she usually stayed in to avoid detection. _

_It was a stupid pipe dream, she was a soldier, constantly on the move, but yet Max couldn't help but want something more. Sitting up here reinforced that desire; here she felt like a regular girl; one with regular problems. Maybe, just maybe, she'd actually keep the meeting time she had with Original Cindy and go looking for a job. Yeah… that would be nice. Making a living and, what was it that Original Cindy had said?… that's right, hanging out with her home girl. It might be a decent way to pass the time…_

Shaking her head, to clear it of the recollection that had just came to her, the contemporary Max looked over the drenched city and contemplated her feelings. The memory confirmed more of what her siblings and Logan had told her, and there was no doubt that the woman in her memory was the same exuberant personage that had taken her on a tour of her so-called life during the past two weeks. Original Cindy had been her friend. And this place, Seattle, had been her home for over two years.

Confusing as hell? Maybe. But still Max found the idea to be comforting. It was good to know that she'd made it on her own, that she hadn't come crawling back to Manticore begging for safe haven.

Nevertheless, the memory raised more questions than answers. What was she going to do now that she knew part of it was true? Did she go back to a place she barely remembered and try to pick up the pieces? Or run back to her new family, the one that had lied to her even as it protected her?

For all the uncertainty, Max found herself focusing on her memory triggers. What could possibly be the next clue? Obviously, she had suspected she might climb to the top of the Space Needle of her own accord. High, remote places had always been a lure to her, almost like her feline DNA demanded that she perch like a cat.

But what had she suspected would be her next move once she found the memory of Original Cindy? It wouldn't be like there was a phone book she could use to look up the woman. And did it really matter since Max had already found her?

Troy met her at the entrance of the Needle, interrupting her self-reflection.

"So? What now?" he demanded, getting right to the point.

Looking hard into his eyes, Max responded, her own voice full of new strength: "Did you mean it when you told me your allegiance was to your unit and your country?"

Unwaveringly, Troy nodded, "yes."

"Then our next step is figuring this bitch out," Max stated, "once and for all."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers, 0200…**

Logan sat with his laptop on his knees contemplating the best course of action. Should he destroy the informant net, or simply take it with him and post a note to the board that Eyes Only would be out of touch for a while? Either was a grim thought, but with the seconds ticking away, and no word from Lydecker it seemed like Max was indeed going back, and the repercussions of that were undeniable.

As much as Logan hated to think about Max's returning, the ramifications of her decision required that he shift his focus to other less personal problems. For one, he needed to consider whether it was just wishful thinking that he might be able to live long enough to pass off the informant net to Bling or Matt Sung. If Manticore was really after him, how long could he expect to stay at large, and wasn't it better to be safe than sorry?

He was pulled from his contemplations by the slightest wisp of sound. Another person might have dismissed it or attributed to something else, but Logan knew exactly what it was and his heart sped up in anticipation.

Hearing her take a circular route to his office, Logan decided to come up behind her, an effort to simulate their first meeting and encourage the progression of her memories.

"Are you alone, or can I expect a dozen Manticore agents to be dropping by momentarily?" Logan dryly asked, almost wishing he had a rifle to point at her to complete the parallel.

Turning around slowly, Max responded, with a touch of humor and a great deal of sarcasm: "A dozen? Think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?"

"Just figured it was standard procedure to call in the tact team." Logan answered, the smallest smile touching his lips.

"I hate to tell you this, but I don't exactly need a tact team to take you out, but I guess being a famous underground cyber journalist might give you an inflated sense of importance. Would you prefer I call in a strike, rather than having the great and powerful Eyes Only taken out by girl?"

"Girls kick ass, says so on a tee shirt," Logan bantered, the slight smile never fading.

As he spoke Logan let his eyes wonder down her body, taking in the full effect of Max. She was still attired in her strike outfit from the raid on the facility, her black pants and military jacket baggier than her cat suite, but still tight enough to reveal the graceful lines of her body. Her long hair, poker straight and sleek, made her seem darker and stronger somehow, more like the soldier she was. He had always loved the curls, their softness supposedly a contrast to her tough-ass attitude, but really, as Logan saw it, an inner glimpse of her core and the innate humanity that lay within. He had many fantasies about those curls.

Meeting her eyes, he continued: "Besides, if I have to give up my life's work; I'd rather you be the one…(he shrugged, seemingly unconcerned)… poetic justice or something."

His words and look had caused Max to shift her posture, her military stance of alertness gave way to an attitude-filled, hip-out, arm-crossed carriage that hinted at the street-wise girl she'd once been.

Max needed to draw up her defense shields. His eyes made her body tingle in awareness as a sharp, and oddly familiar, current of attraction seemed to pass between them, and his words pulled at the frayed edge of her memory invoking the fuzzy film of a forgotten moment to cloud the edge of her vision. Still, it remained out of reach and Max's uncertainty and frustration caused her next words to come out sharply.

"You seem like you were expecting me. Should I be looking for a surprise visit of my own?" Her eyes began to look around her, searching for signs that this was a trap.

"Well I wasn't expecting the pizza delivery guy." Logan stated. The words were casual, but the tone was intent, carefully crafted to evoke a specific response.

He received it. Max's eyes shot back to his face as her voice anxiously asked: "What?"

Logan's face lost any trace of a smile as his eyes because completely focused on her. He didn't answer her directly, but continued to press: "You have good taste, French, 1920s, attributed to Chitarus."

Max held herself perfectly still and concentrated all of her energy on the bringing forth the lost memory. The strings which had held back this particular incident had loosened with the statue of Bast, and although her recall had ended with picking up the statue, other images were slipping forward with his words. She saw a women and child in bed, she saw Logan with a gun pointed at her, she saw the statue of Bast in a black bag on the floor. The memory wasn't fluid like the other two had been, it was stilted, repressed, bound by other triggers. And yet, Max felt a response rise to her lips: "Whoever that is."

"Max!" Logan breathed, his eyes filling with the same emotion that Max recalled seeing when she had awoken in his arms. He stepped forward, clearly intent on pulling her to him – instead, she stepped back.

The motion brought Logan back to his senses, and Max watched as he used his iron control to visibly lock away his feelings.

Controlled now, he stated: "Do you remember?"

Deciding that she wanted the windows surrounding her, rather than the claustrophobic hallway, Max walked into the living room, Logan following several steps behind. Finally, pausing as she stared out at the city, Max answered: "I remember robbing this place, stumbling on to you making a broadcast. I wouldn't have had a name or address to put with it." She saw Logan's eyes blaze in the reflection and decided to trust him with the additional information. "I also made a pit stop over at the Space Needle. Seems I did live here… at least for a little while."

"What do you make of it?" he questioned.

"Seems I was trying to protect you. And given that Lydecker is one of your bosom buddies that could mean it was from Manticore."

"So where does that leave us?" Logan asked, aware that Max's memory was still fractured.

That was the very question that Max had been pondering for the past several hours, and she was no closer to answering now than she was then.

However, matters beyond Max's own personal dilemma had taken precedent, pushing aside her own need for self-identity. No matter how confused she was, that was what Max needed to focus on for now…

XXXX

**An hour earlier…**

As she and Troy had walked back to her bike, they had discussed what to do about the intel on Renfro. The information was disturbing, a confirmation of Valjean's warning, and indicated that corruption lay at the very top of the military command.

The issue was now not if they could trust Renfro, but who could they trust to tell about Renfro. The communications she had been sending were heavily encoded and her recipients unidentifiable. It had become clear to Max early on in her conversation with Troy that they were going to need to do something that no X5 was good at – bringing in outside help.

Troy, of course, had been resistant to the idea, especially Max's suggestion that they utilize the enemy of their enemy to help. But when it became apparent that Max had no intention of abandoning her unit, he seemed to accept the wisdom of her plan.

He had again put up a fight when Max had suggested that they split up, noting the pressing timeline they were under. It brought home to Max just how skewed Troy's judgment regarding her had become, and she had felt compelled to state facts that should have been obvious.

"Listen – we know that Alpha team is going to be under pressure to report back to Manticore, and you need to get to them before that happens and find a way to delay their return. We also know that my siblings have probably retreated to a forward base of operation and are waiting a limited amount of time before dispersing and going underground. We also need to get to them and convince them to help us if we stand any chance of finding out who's loyal. From what I could tell from my time with them, Lydecker isn't in charge. He seems to have fallen in with them after losing favor with Manticore. If his beef was with Renfro that probably means he's still serving the government, at the very least it means he knows something."

"How are you going to find them?" Troy asked. "Like you said, they probably retreated to a base you're unaware of."

"I'll return to the apartment we were just at, see if I can pick anything up. They may still be monitoring it for my return."

"I don't like it," Troy had stubbornly stated.

Max's patience had finally snapped, annoyed by the delay. "To bad. It's the best plan and you know it."

"Who's the other ordinary?" Troy asked, seemingly out the blue, refusing to let their conversation drop.

"Other ordinary?"

"Yeah. They guy with the statue. Who is he?" Troy prodded.

Max could have told him the truth, that Logan was the guy on the most wanted poster back at Manticore, but for some reason she didn't. "Just an old friend from my former life. Can we go?"

Troy looked like he wanted to press the issue, but he didn't. "Fine. I'll expect to hear from you at 0800."

Max had stomped off toward her motorcycle, leaving Troy to find a ride and berating the territorial vibe of men, when she had seen it: a guy on a bicycle pedaling furiously to his destination, way after curfew. He'd be in big trouble if the sector police caught him, but that wasn't Max's concern. Instead, she became focused on his mode of transportation, as her vision blurred and the present image of a bicycle was replaced by one hanging from a wall hook as she walked down a platform and into a place of business:

_Jam Pony was the name on the sign, and as she made her way to the front desk, Max noticed that Original Cindy was by her side. _

_The man behind the desk was dressed in a slightly effeminate, lime green button-down shirt, his hair spiked, wearing thick plastic eyeglass frames. Max could tell immediately that she wasn't going to like him. _

"_Can I help you," he demanded, taking in their casual dress and obviously linking them with someone who wouldn't be bringing him new business._

_Original Cindy spoke, "Yeah. Me and my home girl, who's new in town, were looking for employment. We heard you might be hiring."_

"_That so?" He'd stated, his tone becoming blatantly condescending. "Well it just so happens I'm not looking for anymore lazy slackers. I've got a department full of them as we speak."_

_Max had just opened her mouth to give the dirtbag a blistering reply when a loud crash could be heard from outside. They had turned toward the entrance, and after a few moments a messenger had run in._

"_Normal! Call an ambulance!" the man had called to him from across the office._

"_What in the name of Sam is happening, Theo?" Normal bellowed, clearly annoyed by the interruption._

"_Jem, Smeagol, and Turny were just side swiped by a car. They look hurt," the concerned rider stated, before turning back to look after his friends. _

_Somewhat casually, this Normal had picked up the phone beside him. After reporting the location of the accident, he had looked back at a stunned Original Cindy and Max and stated: "What do you know? It looks like I am in the market for more degenerates. Welcome to Jam Pony. Here fill this out…"_

The memory faded, leaving Max on the dark street corner.

So that was how she had connected herself to Original Cindy. Part of Max wanted to dash off in pursuit of her next trigger. The metaphorical trail of bread crumbs made a sort of twisted logical sense that left Max exhilarated. But, before she could do that she had other, more pressing things to deal with.

She had turned and headed back to Sector 9, where she had found Logan waiting.

XXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

Turning around and meeting Logan's expectant eyes, Max answered his question: "It leaves us in the here and now. Turns out things are pretty screwed up back in Manticore, the director is selling us out to a foreign agency."

Logan tried to not let his confusion show at the abrupt change in conversation and asked: "Which means what?"

"That we need some help tracking them down and figuring out who the good guys are. If you're really Eyes Only, I figure you might have some resources to help us. You interested?" Max asked, almost challengingly.

"Could be. Does that mean you're sticking around?" Logan asked, viciously repressing the feelings of hope that sprung up at her words.

"For now." Max shrugged. "I also need you to set up a meeting between Lydecker and my unit."

"Our desire to have you back notwithstanding, why are we suppose to trust you?"

Max stepped closer to him in an effort to intimidate, but found herself equally as effected by the heat of his body: "Because I could have had you on the way back to Manticore by now, where we could have squeeze the info out of you. But instead I'm asking nicely."

Instead of backing away, Logan stepped closer, his body merely inches away from hers. He searched her eyes and for the first time found something of his former cat burglar staring back. "Well in that case…" he murmured softly, noting the slight tremble in her form. "I'll see what I can do."

Unexpectedly, Eyes Only and X452 found themselves working together again. It wasn't exactly quid pro quo, but Logan had every intention of taking advantage of her presence for his own designs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Reviews are always appreciated. **TBC…**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: As interesting as this chapter of the story is for me, since it's my creation, I fear it might not be as entertaining to the rest of you. In particular, I worry that my shipper readership might not be getting enough M/L action for their refined palate. Let me know if you're falling asleep at the screen.**

**Thank you to Lisa who read this chapter over twice.**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Lydecker's base of operation, Seattle…**

Max sighed to herself, grateful for the momentary silence that filled the large room. It had been a hell of a 24 hour period and Max was sure it wasn't going to be any less intense moving into the next 24.

Still, given the givens, she was fairly satisfied with the way things had turned out. 27 hours ago she had been preparing to turn her siblings back over to Manticore, to relinquish her own freedom, and to bear whatever punishment Renfro decided to give her for Max's earlier insubordination. Despite her acceptance of the scenarios, it had been a grim future that she had been more than happy to avoid. In particular, Max was grateful for being spared from witnessing the brutal indoctrination process that she knew her siblings would have been subjected to, the thought enough to make her sick to her stomach.

She had gone from those dark prospects, to attempting to unite her siblings and her unit against Renfro, the wicked witch of Manticore, and whoever else the evil bitch was supporting. Not a bad trade in Max's mind.

In fact, things were starting to feel better than just okay, they were starting to feel right. The dread in her gut that had been Max's constant companion for the past few weeks began to dissipate, and even though it was now her unit that could potentially be in danger – walking in unarmed to Lydecker's base – she knew instinctively that they'd be okay. She trusted her siblings, and, as much as she hated to admit it or examine it too closely, she trusted Logan.

Which brought her to another point of unease. Who exactly was Logan Cale? And what had he been to her in her former life? Already the man had revealed extraordinary depths. Besides his secret identity, Max's time alone in his penthouse as they prepared for this meeting had shown her his remarkable ability with electronics, particularly computers. Max herself excelled in telecommunications, but his ability to crack codes, break through firewalls, and declassify information was beyond anything she'd previously encountered.

It was but one more layer to add to her confused picture: Logan Cale, the unnamed cyber hacker from her first memory; the remarkably handsome man, who'd made her body tingle as he'd kissed her into consciousness; the Manticore target, whom she'd instinctively protected, even from her unit. He made her forgot to think; forgot to be a soldier.

He also drew her out, eliciting information that she probably wouldn't have shared without first consulting her team.

Soon after Max's unexpected pronouncement of Renfro's betrayal Logan told her how he had broken into the director's private e-mail account. He had detailed the different messages he found, including a number of e-mails sent to unknown parties, always in French. Although he hadn't yet translated them, he'd done enough to realize that the messages were leaking internal information outside of military's command.

Logan's information had sent Max's memory spiraling back to the mission in Paris, where she had had an impromptu meeting with the mission's target, Valjean. The man had recognized Max as a Manticore operative, but instead of attempting to kill her or pleading for his life, he had calmly asserted that he too was an American operative stationed in France, and that it was his recent discovery of information linking members of the NLU organization to U.S. officials that had put him on Manticore's hit list.

He had spoken to Max as she were an independent mind, someone capable of making a rational decision on her own, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. However, the most important thing he had informed Max of was the director of Manticore's own supposed involvement with the renegade group. This is what had prompted the X5s to take a look into Madame X's dealings. To that end, they had decided to track her, listening to her messages, watching her exchanges, following her every move. It was an overheard phone conversation, conducted in French, that had convinced Troy that she was a double agent, and with some careful recon into her private chambers, Alec had been able to find more evidence linking her with the foreign organization.

In addition to his suspicions, Valjean had given Max a disk. Although she hadn't been able to save the life of the debonair man, Max was grateful for the hard evidence he had supplied her with, giving her a tangible link to the memory that now seemed more like a dream.

However, the disk itself had so far proved relatively worthless. It contained some information about the way the NLU organization recruited and introduced spies into high-ranking government positions, but gave no evidence linking Renfro to the group.

There were also a number of coded messages on the disk – potentially information intercepted from the NLU that Valjean had yet been unable to break. The X5s hadn't had a great deal of time to work on the code, and had devoted most of their time to finding out whether or not Renfro was involved.

Logan's ability to break complex Manticore encryptions was a feat Max recognized as that of a master hacker. And it was what persuaded her to tell him of the disk Valjean had given her. If he could figure out what the file contained it could go a long way into speeding up their plans, and Max recognized that time was something they didn't have on their side. Any minute now, Renfro might decide to call off the search for her and pull her X5s back to Manticore.

So, although it was somewhat risky to trust Logan Cale with so much information, Max had made the decision then and there to bring him into the loop.

Logan had been receptive of the idea, but had refused to move forward without further explanation of the situation. Max's mention of the NLU had stopped Logan in his tracks, as a look that Max had never seen – or at least couldn't remember seeing – crossed his face. It was an utter absorption with the issue at hand, and complete shift into "combat" mode as Max labeled it. It shouldn't have surprised her; the guy was, after all, someone who'd cared enough about this broken city to take on half the baddies around. But still, it was the first time since she got back that he wasn't turning that intense look on her, and briefly Max had felt sort of jealous.

Shaking it off, Max remembered the exchange….

XXXXX

**Fogle Towers, five hours ago…**

"The NLU? Are you sure?" Logan had pressed.

When Max had nodded Logan had immediately made his way into his computer room, bringing up a series of files with a speed even Max found impressive.

"The Neo-Luddite Underground is rumored to be one of the strongest, covert insurrectionist groups ever created," Logan explained, his focus still on the screen. "They are said to have operatives world-wide, though concrete evidence on them has always been sparse."

"What's their deal?" Max asked, remembering Valjean's sincere eyes and compelling voice.

Logan looked back at her, his eyes slightly unfocused as he remembered: "They are supposedly these pro-globalization zealots who formed sometime in the early 2000s. They put out this manifesto in November of 2008, during the market crash of that year, affirming their belief in the fundamental link among the world's economies, their disapproval of the unchecked greed that led to the U.S. market collapse, and their commitment to bringing all economies into balance through any means necessary."

"What do you mean brining them within balance?" Max asked, a suspicion forming in the back of her mind.

"They felt that for true cohesion and equality to exist there couldn't be one dominant economy or culture. That all countries needed to be on equal footing to avoid any kind of cultural imperialism and to allow the best of all cultural signifiers – art, language, music etc. – to overtake lesser models and to form into one grand, overarching worldview."

"Seems pretty stupid if you ask me," Max responded, refusing to the let the knot of apprehension show on her face.

"Maybe. But they made this huge gesture – blocking out television transmissions for twelve hours as their full-length mission statement scrolled on the screens of most of the developed nations," Logan stated, remembering where he was when that had happened. The means, if not the message, had obviously made a deep impression on his younger self given his current means of information dissemination.

However, at the time, the feat had been laughed off by most of the media – the prank of a backwards ideology – but still there had been an underlying fear that this group could accomplish something so large.

"It was an age of extremists," Logan recalled. "But this group seemed different even then. It had no religious or national affiliation. It seemed to have a strong foot-hold into European nations, particularly France, as well as the U.S. and Canada. It also employed methods never used before – including mass scale cultural warfare."

"Sounds pretty intense." Max wagered.

"It should have been, but there was so much going on at the time that it was just one more news story," Logan stated.

"So what happened to them?" Max asked, aware that she had been briefed on many insurrectionists groups throughout the world and had never heard of them until the mission to France.

"Disappeared from the public, shortly before the Pulse of '09," Logan answered.

Their eyes connected and Max knew he was reading her thoughts even before she asked: "Any connection?"

"When the Pulse happened there were many different groups that claimed responsibility. Anti-American sentiments were running high back then, despite the President's newly instated diplomatic approaches. Unfortunately, it was a matter of too little too late. However, of the groups that claimed responsibility, no one was ever proven to be connected with the explosion. Popular opinion linked the nuclear-air burst to the organization that had attacked the U.S. in 2001, but, like I said, it was never confirmed and everyone was too busy trying to survive to worry about retribution."

Max nodded.

"Sebastian, however, has always believed that the NLU was one of the most likely candidates for the Pulse, having both the means and the motivations."

"Sebastian?" Max asked. Logan had said the name as if it should carry some weight, but it had no meaning to her.

Logan's eyes momentarily squinted in confusion, before turning away from her to face the computer screen again. His voice contained only a hint of gruffness as he explained: "He's a friend of mine with a love for conspiracy theories. He's also a genius with several related specialties."

"Sounds like a fun guy," Max bantered, attempting to lighten the mood. It was obvious from Logan's reaction that she had met this Sebastian before. "So, anything you can dig up about these guys?"

"In recent years there have been a lot of whisperings about the NLU. Nothing substantive, but the more economically sound nations: Canada, South Africa, China – have reported espionage activity that they have linked to the group. And Derek, who's has been clerking for one Manticore's committee members, has reported a wide-spread fear of infiltration into several levels of the government."

"And if Renfro's associated with them, the military is too." Max added.

"Looks like it."

"Makes this Renfro thing seem a hell of a lot more serious." Max ventured, wondering if Logan had picked up on the possible implications.

"Having the world's most advanced infantry units at your beck and call would certainly add to the group's arsenal." Logan replied, easily following. "It would be helpful if I could get my hands of the files you guys have… see if I could crack the code, so we can have that information for our upcoming meeting."

Max smiled lightly. That was exactly what she had been thinking.

XX

Troy had fought her, of course, but Max had carried out her objective, pointing out how they needed outside help and this was a gesture of good faith. The CO had grunted something along the lines mistrust being a positive trait, before finally agreeing.

X624 wasn't good at taking orders.

With everything set, Logan had begun breaking down the NLU's communications code. Although most of it was in the universal digital language, Logan inevitably hit a language barrier, recognizing that some of the decoded information was in French. It was the same problem he'd run into with some of Renfro's e-mails, and although he had begun to translate them, he hadn't had time to truly break them down.

Max smiled, seeing his frustration and leaning over his shoulder to get a look at the offending wording. "It's just telling the recipient that the rest of the information will be sent in the next transmission." Max supplied, noticing the raised goose bumps on back of Logan's neck as she pulled back.

"You speak French?" he asked, swiveling around in his chair to face her.

"I picked it up recently," Max shrugged. "Mission related."

Again she saw it, the blaze in Logan's eyes as he focused entirely on her being. She wasn't sure whether it was disapproval, or anger, or admiration that she saw, or some odd combination of all three, but it made it impossible to look away. It also made it impossible to respond immediately to his seemingly unconnected question.

"What?" she asked.

"I wanted to know if you were hungry." Logan asked, even has he stood and walked toward the kitchen.

His abrupt change in topic threw Max. "I'm not saying I couldn't eat, but shouldn't we be focusing on the upcoming meeting?" she asked.

"Even genetically enhanced killing-machines need to keep up their strength," Logan responded, almost teasingly, even has he began to heat a skillet on the stove.

"Can't argue with that," Max stated, her stomach giving off a loud growl as she considered the prospect of food.

Since being taken away from Manticore, Max had had a number of delicious meals. Most had been brought to her on a tray by Jondy and a few had been eaten in restaurants with Original Cindy. The origins of the former had never crossed her mind as the food was always ready and waiting when she'd get back from whatever it was that she had been doing that day.

Now, however, Max realized where, or more specifically – who - the delectable dishes had come from. Not long after Logan began to cook, delicious smells began to permeate the apartment, filling Max's senses and taking her back into her inner mind to familiar flashes of memory that she had spent nearly every night at Manticore exploring.

It was a unique scent that blended with the cherry oak of the walls and the fresh pine-scent of the clean floors. It mingled and changed after Logan went over an opened a bottle of wine and left it to breathe on the counter. It left her with no doubt that she had found the source of so many nights' fantasies.

Having her dreams physically embodied around her filled Max with a languid satisfaction. She felt seduced by her senses as she relaxed and a slightly dreamy expression blossomed on her face.

How many times had she dreamt of waking up here, at the source of her memories? How many times had she questioned who the distinctive masculine odor belonged to?

It wasn't so much the actual dish Logan was preparing, but the ambience that he created. It felt… decadent, comfortable, and exciting, all at once.

An expression of distracted bliss was on her face as Logan had turned around, and she hadn't had the sense to cover it.

Eight months ago, before she'd been taken, when Logan had seen similar expressions on Max's face, he had always made light of it, teasing her about her absorption in her appetite; questioning her about what he supposed was a long day working for Normal; or asking if she felt okay, worried that an impending seizure might be about to strike. He had needed a way to deny the obvious, the contentment and pleasure Max received from his company.

His relationship to that look had taken many odd turns. In the beginning, after the accident, he had simply enjoyed the company of an intelligent, beautiful woman, not totally unaware of the benefits to keeping her happy for his Eyes Only causes, and pleased that he could give her a bit of luxury in a post-Pulse world. As he got to know her, encountering her vulnerability, her humanity, he had allowed himself to grow fonder of her, all the while knowing that no relationship could result. He let the friendship, their connection to continue and strengthen because there was no chance that a more intimate relationship could happen, and he didn't mind providing her with a badly needed safe haven.

But as much as Logan denied it, he was still a man, and he couldn't keep himself from responding to this woman's considerable beauty and charm. Plus, there had always been this… thing between them. Attraction? Empathy? Connection? They were "cut from the same cloth" to use a well-worn cliché. Even though they were from extraordinarily different background, there remained an innate similarity.

And very gradually, Logan began to let go, to want.

Then the temporary cure had come, fast and unexpectedly, and the want that he had been repressing flowed forth in deep, irrepressible torrents that left him gasping for sanity. He wanted her, undeniably, deeply. But all too soon, he'd been thrown from the life-raft and back onto the hard, crushing reality of earth. The despair, not just for her, but for many whispered dreams, had nearly annihilated him, taunting him with their unreachable nearness. He tried to shove them back into the closet, to deny their existence, but now that they were out. The recent dreams couldn't be denied or undreamed.

He tried to fight it, whenever he saw that look on her face. The whispered promise that he could be enough, give her enough. It was coupled with looks of confusion and hurt as he had attempted to pull away. They touched him despite the despair, as he made several small attempts to reach her – the poem, the offered comfort for her sibling's death. She'd pulled away and he'd been grateful.

But not for long. More looks, more double-conversations about relationships and feelings and that pulsing need just under the surface. The need to touch her when she looked at him like that. Even the fear Lydecker had inspired in him had dissipated quickly under that need.

He'd seized the exo like a drowning man. It would be enough if he could walk, he made himself believe that – forgetting the rest of his reservations. He'd planned the dinner, pushed forward his plans, and they'd gone to hell – and suddenly, or perhaps not so suddenly, he was on the floor with her within arms' length, and she was looking at him like that again. Telling, without telling, that he needn't be afraid. He'd been unable to stop himself from touching her.

Eight months and he would have played off that looked; seven and half months ago and he would have reached for her – today, he soldiered forward wanting to know her thoughts in the hopes that one day he'd be able to touch her again.

But Max was oblivious to this internal dialogue, all she saw was his eyes drop down to her mouth before huskily asking: "What are you thinking, Max?"

She shivered at his voice, and retreated behind her walls. "Smells good."

"That's the only thing you were thinking?" Logan pressed, attempting to reconnect their gazes.

Max wasn't sure why she answered. She shouldn't have by all the standards taught to her by Manticore, but she did. "I have these images…" she offered, tentatively searching his eyes to see if he was listening.

"Images?" he pressed, subconsciously taking a step toward her, the smell of his body now blending with the other oddly familiar scents.

The intensity of his blue eyes, the strong cut of his jaw-lines, the masculine strength behind his well-toned body, and that indescribable sensation of trust… compelled her to respond.

"Back in Manticore, when things would get rough, I'd remember these small things. Nothing coherent, just small… images." Max looked down at the counter, unable to continue with the intimacy of their look.

When she didn't clarify, he asked: "The kitchen?"

"No." Max shook her head. "The… smells. I remember these smells from meals cooking. I…" she stopped, unwilling to go further. How this man got to her, she didn't know, but it was time to wage a tactical retreat. "Anyway, can we eat? I'm starving."

Her eyes challenged him to press their previous conversation, threatening if he continued. He seemed to want to take up that challenge, to force their relationship, but Logan knew that look and so he didn't. Nevertheless, it was a victory of sorts evidence the scraps of memory existed independent of the triggers. He stored that information away, intent on using it when the time came. Now, however, wasn't the time.

"Sure thing. Let me grab the plates."

The casual retreat did more for Max than any show of force. It almost made her want to be chased…

XXXXX

They'd continued to work in harmonious silence until the time came for Max and Logan to head over to Lydecker's base. But before they left, Max had told him one more thing.

"Listen, I think my memories are based on some sort of logical chain. If my supposition is correct, then I need to get in touch with Original Cindy. Would you mind setting up a meeting with her after we get this bitch settled?"

Smiling like the Cheshire cat, Logan had responded: "No problem."

Both of them were aware of her tacit promise to come back.

XXXXXX

Even now, with her siblings surrounding her and her unit on her way, the memory of that smile affected Max. It contained something sensual, something that heightened Max's awareness of him. She couldn't forget that look, just like she couldn't ignore the sound of the sure, firm stroke of his long fingers on the computer keys, the only sound that could be heard echoing through the base. Although Max couldn't be sure of much regarding her former life, she was positive that whatever Logan was to her, she hadn't been indifferent toward him.

Attempting to shake herself from her thoughts and focus on the task at hand, Max strained her ears to listen and wait for the returning sounds of the X5s.

Logan had been given the task of making an untraceable call to the Manticore X5s at their current location. One member at a time was supposed to go to the specified coordinates where he or she would be met with three of her siblings. Once searched for weapons and tracking systems, he or she would then be escorted back to Lydecker's base. The coordinates would be given out at 10 minute intervals.

Max understood the precautions, the memory of gun fire and explosives all to close for comfort, and frankly there was a small part of her that was worried that her unit would try something. As she sat there, Seth, Krit, and Derek were out there acting as guards and putting faith in her new directives. She hoped she wasn't leading them into a trap.

Almost without warning, the slight creak of the door signified to Max that her two worlds were about to collide. Soon a handsome, male X5 with light hair could be seen swaggering into the base, just in front of her three brothers. His seemingly nonchalant manner attempted to hide the shrew reconnaissance that he was doing as he casually glance around marking everyone's positions and the potential exits. As soon as he saw her, he called out.

"Maxie!" Alec's booming, irrepressible voice filled the hall. "How's our favorite renegade doing?"

Unable to deny the happiness she felt at the familiar voice from her unit, Max gave him a small smile, well aware of Logan's and her siblings' eyes upon her, before stating: "Hey. What's up?"

"Now, don't be modest," Alec continued in the same upbeat way, though Max could now detect the taunt that was just below the surface. "It's not every day that a young X5 female can charm our stalwart CO into abandoning his mission and dashing after her… quite the accomplishment."

"Stow it, Alec," Max warned, immediately annoyed.

But apparently 494 had been lying in wait to tease Max about Troy's recent activities and wasn't about to be denied the pleasure.

"Tut, tut, don't be so coy. I mean first 624 stands up to command and gallantly insists on taking my place as your breeding partner, and then rides off into the sunset to find you when you're kidnapped…" he had come up beside her and began poking her with his elbow "don't tell there isn't some amore going on there."

If his smirk became any smugger Max was pretty sure he'd combust; he'd obviously be waiting since the night before her abduction to get this out and the pressure had been building in her absence.

It was incumbent on Max to bring him down a peg or two: "Or maybe Troy was just worried you'd blow the order, so to speak… it's okay Alec; we've all heard the rumors."

"Hey." Alec retorted, on the defensive now. "I haven't heard any complaining."

"Hmmm… that's funny 'cause I heard not listening was part of the problem." Max bit back, determined to best him.

Alec gave an appreciative chuckle, as always amused by her sarcasm: "Ah, Maxie. How I've missed that biting wit. Must be the same stuff that charmed our CO."

Max glared at him, and he couldn't resist one more barb at her expense: "However, next time you can try for something a little more romantic than a breeding program to finish the deed. Speaking of which…" Alec murmured as he scanned the hall, alighting on Max's sisters.

"Hello, I'm Alec." He stated charmingly, extending his hand to Coreen. "And you would be?"

"Please!" Max scoffed, rolling her eyes. He could be such a chump.

The lack of response for Coreen or her other siblings caused Max to became uncomfortably aware of the bent of her and Alec's conversation as she watched their expressions. Her brothers that hadn't headed back out were awkwardly shifting, attempting to ignore what had just been said. Coreen seemed to measuring Max, looking first at her face and then her stomach. Syl and Jondy were looking over at Logan, who in turn was typing furiously at his computer, the only indication he had heard was the vigor with which he typed.

Alec's attempt to flirt was further suspended by Lydecker who suddenly stepped forward, directing his questions to Max. "What is this about a breeding program, soldier?"

Max couldn't keep the disdain from her voice as she responded: "Renfro's been playing match-maker, hoping to supplement her soldier population by giving birth to new recruits since the destruction of the genetics lab."

"That can't be. We've done experiments in the past with breeding programs, all of them known for their astounding failures. Your sister Tinga was the only documented case of an X5 passing on her genetic traits to her offspring."

"Tinga had a child?" Max questioned, her voice rising slightly with emotion.

Lydecker looked at her, for the first time something like sympathy entered into his eyes. Max had been the one to save Tinga's son, and to stand up to him. He'd been very proud of her that day. "Yes." He stated gently before proceeding, "What about you, soldier? Are you in the family way?"

Max swallowed her anger, aware that everyone in the room was looking for an answer. It was the wave of embarrassment that made her answer simply: "No."

"No, as in you don't have conclusive evidence that you are, or no, as in it's not possible. Be specific, soldier."

"Not possible. Like Alec so eloquently stated, the lack of a romantic atmosphere just didn't do it for me, so I didn't let it happen."

"You didn't _let_ it happen?" Lydecker questioned, clearly disbelieving.

"That's what I said." Max answered, daring him to question her further.

"She's being straight with you, Colonel," Alec stepped in. "We were just about to get disciplinary action for it when you guys swooped in and stole away the potential mother."

Max glared at him, angry that he had violated her privacy, no matter how noble his intentions. However, her reply was frozen on her lips as the squeak of the door signified that the next member of her unit was entering the building.

A collective intake of breath was the only indication of the significance of this new arrival. It was Brin.

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**Thanks for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Okay readers, so here's the dealio (ha, I love using DA slang, helps me to channel my inner Original Cindy) – the thumb drive that contained my DA stories decided to stop working and is currently in route to some computer recovery center in Missouri. For Season Two Redo that means that a number of prewritten scenes, ones that I've been building toward and wrote a long time ago (read important and favorite ones), have disappeared. So cross your fingers and say a prayer to the Blue Lady that they can 1. Recover my files and 2. Not charge me an arm and leg to do it. Because while I may have been stupid enough not to back up this or my other in-progress stories (around 100 pages worth, but who's counting), I wasn't quite so careless with my RL stuff, minus one notable exception. So let's hope the lovely folks who do recovery don't put too high a price on my time-consuming hobby.

In the meantime, I realized somewhere amid my self-deprecating curses that I still had half of this chapter in my e-mail account and with all the M/A stories building up on the front page of fanfic I decided to momentarily shake off the wallowing and finish this. The current installment was partly pre-written and thankfully sent in advance to my wonderful beta, Lisa. So please enjoy and hopefully I'll be returning with a follow up soon.

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**Manticore…**

The piercing cry of three infants echoed off the grey walls in the "nursery" wing of Manticore's facility. Registered Nurse, Delilah Winters, sent up a silent pray that the newborns would quiet of their own accord, and not persuade their two currently silent neighbors in the other cribs to join in their sorrowful wail.

She prayed some heightened sense would alert to them to danger and cause them to hide from the menacing presence, which was now examining them with emotionless eyes from the corner of the room. No such luck. A fourth cry was added to the screeching chorus, and a corresponding tick of annoyance could be seen in their watcher's face.

Comforting the screaming children barely even passed through Winters' mind. She hadn't survived the recent purge of civilian personnel by going against orders. And orders were clear: the plain grey walls, the stark metallic gates to the cribs, even the ubiquitous basic white sheets issued to all Manticore residents, signified that this was a nursery in name only. These children, offspring of the X series and an ordinary or two, were going to be raised like soldiers. And this was the first attempt to acquaint them with their lifestyle by getting them use to lack of human contact, or as the director stated, _coddling_.

It hadn't always been that way. According to the older nurses, who had been brought in about a year ago in preparation for new generation of X series that Manticore had been gearing up to produce, the children had been treated as the stars of the facility during the early, successful days of the project. Sure, they weren't given pastel blankets and frilly clothing, but every aspect of their development had been carefully monitored and traced. There wasn't a minute of the day, beyond their sleep time, that the young soldiers weren't being exposed to some form of preliminary training.

In those days, according to the RNs, the babies had been kept in one large, flat community crib – big as the room, after the initial first weeks and until they outgrew the confides of the space. After that, they had been kept in gated day beds within close range of the initial nursery. It was an arrangement that was kept up until the escape of '09 when command deemed the psychological development of their current soldiers as too independent. Only belatedly did they realize they wanted to encourage loyalty to the mission over to the unit. Ironic that what command had first seen as the greatest strength of the soldiers had actually been the greatest risk to their mission.

And it had all started in this very nursery, Winters thought.

That first group of successful X5s had been more spread out in ages than subsequent groups. Command wanted to be assured that they'd fixed the problems with the internal organs before they sunk millions into an entire unit. Therefore, there had been almost three years between the eldest X5 and the youngest – though the majority of them fell within a six month period.

Winters had been bemused to learn that the primary caretakers of the infants had been their older counterparts. Three-year-olds changing newborns, settling their cries, and anticipating their hunger. It had been the belief of command, back then, that cohesive group dynamics were at the heart of developing perfect soldiers. It had also been Psy Ops' recommendation that too little human interaction could lead to a disconnect in normal human emotional development, which although not a bad quality to raise in a soldier, could perhaps lead to a sociopathic personality disorder – one of the many problems to plague the infamous X2s.

No, according to command – Donald Lydecker in particular – the majority of their "human" interaction was to come from one another. A family, he'd once told one of the nurses, who had repeated the story to Winters with awe in her eyes. An odd family, the nurse had whispered, and an odd childhood. No brightly colored toys or soft edged stuffed animals for those children. Their play things were adult objects: maps, numbers, complex puzzles. Even as the smallest of infants they hadn't had a single mobile or blanket. Instead, projected onto the cold grey walls of Manticore' s ceiling, images of enemy territory, different types of terrain, foreign capitals had shown within eyes shot. Not the near-sighted vision of normal infants either, but the long-ranged accelerated focus of the X series who, at the age when most children were discovering their fingers, were pointing to different solar systems bodies projected high above them.

Every inch of their development had been noted with interest. Evaluators were almost as common as the specialists who focused on teaching, nourishing, and pushing them. Those children couldn't breathe without someone monitoring their Oxygen input. Not like these children, who were simply being ignored. Well, at least until now.

"Close off the cribs!"

The command finally snapped Winters out of reverie as she hastened to fill Director Renfro's order. One by one, she fitted clear plastic containers over and around the babies' beds. In each case, she was careful to click on the air filtration system that would allow oxygen to continue to reach the infants, but wouldn't allow any of their noise to be heard, effectively letting them cry until their little lungs couldn't sustain it.

Standing off to the side in case she was wanted, Winters listened to the conversation between Renfro and the head of pediatrics.

"Any sign of accelerated development?" Madame X's clear cool tone asked, making Winters shiver.

"Not that we can find," the doctor answered, a pot-bellied man who'd been with Manticore for a quarter of a century. "The majority of X series began to show increased motor function within the first month, although there were cases when heightened development didn't become obvious until four months in."

"What's the likelihood by case?" Renfro demanded, obviously unsurprised with the results.

Winters had heard about that too, other experiments of children born of X series, many of who had died of unusual diseases within the first few months or who never developed any abnormal abilities. Winters was pretty sure that it was the surprise expressed by the previous doctor that another generation of such children would be born that had led to his early termination.

"Given what we know, I would say that Infants A and B are unlikely to ever show extended development. Not only are they both the products of X series and human, a sub-par cocktail from our data, but at twelve week olds they seem remarkable only for their normality. Infant C seems lower than average, exhibiting behaviors that have been liken to mental impairments, though, of course, it's difficult to diagnosis to what degree at this stage. D and E are too young to tell."

Renfro nodded.

"Prepare A and B for transport. One's heading off to South Africa and will need the appropriate inoculations."

"Any orders on which?" The doctor questioned.

"None."

"I suppose it is my duty to inform you that inoculations of that sort at this age could lead to physical problems later in life."

Renfro didn't bother to answer, simply looked the doctor with steady apathetic eyes and stated: "Report to me any further progress."

"Yes, ma'am."

Doctor Barnes spent a moment or two watching Madame X walk away, but whether he was admiring the view or contemplating the woman seemed unclear. Finally turning to Winters he demanded: "Prepare the syringes."

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**Lydecker's base, Seattle…**

Most children don't have recollections before age three. They become aware in stages; realizing at some point that the world moves in cycles beyond their own consciousness, or to put it another way, that the world does not revolve around them.

As in most things, the X5s developed early.

Given their enhanced minds, the X series began to have recallable memories before age two; given their militaristic upbringing, they realized the true relationship of the individual to the world - within a hierarchy of power that everyone ranked in – before age three.

The nature of their relationship to one another came earlier than either of these two mile stones, it grew in tandem with their mental awareness. Therefore, if asked, Zane could say that one of his earliest memories was watching Krit take his first steps; Coreen could have described flashes of comforting a crying Jondy; and Brin, if her memory hadn't been interrupted, would have been able to tell anyone Max's first word.

Six months was a long time at Manticore, enough to make babies and older siblings in their family of soldiers. Eva, had she lived, would have been the eldest – the perennial older sister, born eight days earlier than Tinga, five than Zack; she had been named for Eve. Brin had also been born in the first wave of X5s – the protectors, the fixers, the team leaders.

The irony wasn't lost on Max and her siblings. Watching Brin enter the room, they saw the last of their first guardians rise up before them –dozens of images flash before their eyes, moments when this stalwart Manticore soldier had protected them from the master she now served. In some ways, what Brin had gone through was worse than any of the other elder siblings. Because unlike Zack, Eva, or Tinga, who died protecting what they loved, she had been forced to betray what she would have given her life to protect. And even more unforgivably, she had tried to put her little sister in the very same position.

Beautiful, deadly, and silent, Brin entered Lydecker's base of operation and endured her siblings' scrutiny, looking to neither side, but only straight ahead. She was too proud to bend or bow, but stood firm even as Max silently began to circle her, summing her up and giving her a look that left no doubt that her baby sister knew exactly what Brin had attempted to do to her.

The circle was like the dance they'd done dozens of times when gearing up to spar, accessing weak points, attempting intimidation, seeking to wound but not kill. Or at least Brin assumed the latter, but then Manticore always told them to expect the unexpected.

Max stopped pacing directly in front of Brin, and cocking her head to the side, demanded in a confrontational tone that was filled with sarcasm: "Got something to tell me, sis?"

It was difficult for Brin to tell what exactly she felt at that moment. Memories, locked away, threatened to break free at the near presence of her siblings and yet remained out of reach, images of Manticore's 'inspirational' words flowed before her eyes, and somewhere in between were the more tangible recollections of the last seven months at Manticore, with Max as her nearly constant companion.

It didn't totally matter what they'd been before, because what they'd become in those seven month stretch was sisters. Max was infuriating, sarcastic, and uncontrollable – and despite Manticore's training, Brin loved her for it. It was the flaw in the plan that neither she nor Renfro had accounted for – while they were manipulating Max, she would find a way to reach Brin. Manticore's methods looked a hell a lot of different when they were exercised on a friend who had done nothing to provoke such punishment. It's what had finally gotten to Brin, and it's why she answered Max now.

"I exploited your emotions to manipulate you into thinking you'd returned to Manticore of your own choice. I mimicked reciprocal feelings to win your cooperation. I revealed your weakness for human contact to Renfro and I reported your progress to her on a regular basis. Nearly every moment, I was acting as an agent for command, who had my allegiance."

Their sibling's heard the stiltedness to Brin's voice and understood what Lydecker had meant when he'd used that characteristic as a means to measure Max. Max, however, heard something else. Between the lines of her sister's seemingly apathetic confession, she heard the implication of past verb tenses and small glimmer of times not spent under Manticore rule.

"Did you regret it?" Max pressed, her voice suddenly losing much of its anger.

"Regret?" Brin repeated, as if trying out the word for the first time. "Regret…I know I didn't like what happened to you. That I was angry at Renfro's treatment and I was…worried about your safety."

Again the words felt foreign, it had been a long time since Brin had attempted to voice her true internal thoughts. "It's the way I felt when I thought Lydecker killed Tinga. Troy tells me that it's untrue. Is it?"

Max nodded, "It was Renfro."

"Then she needs to be stopped." Brin echoed. Pausing, thinking hard, Brin came up with the words that she wanted to say, "Max. I'm. Sorry."

"How do we know she won't turn us over to command as soon as we get back," Alec quipped, a side of him loving Brin's uncertainty as he remembered all the time she'd reported his insubordination to those on high.

Never removing her eyes from Brin, Max answered: "Because. She doesn't serve Renfro; she serves the U.S. Government."

Dropping her voice a few decimals so Brin knew Max was addressing her specifically, Max whispered, "I know what it's like, to wake up alone and scared, with Manticore having reached so far inside your mind that there's nowhere left to hide. The incredible violation of it. I get that, Brin. Eva, her memory, saved me. Tinga was gonna save you, wasn't she? It's what you'd been looking forward to, counting on. When she was killed, there was nowhere else to go. I'm sorry we didn't get you out. We should have."

Turning toward her siblings, Max was finally able to meet their gazes head on, unashamed as she'd been only a few hours ago.

"We make a promise. Here and now. No one else gets left behind. No more losing touch, no more on our own. Zack would have wanted us to take care of each other. I made a promise to him. I don't know when, but I remember him telling me that I should fight them. He made me promise that I'd fight them. I owe him that, and so do you."

Answering nods were returned from each of Max's siblings, even hesitantly, Brin; the CO was gone, but his mission would still be completed. They'd lost a lot, but Max's family would still march forward, together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore…**

Madame X paced the expanse of her office at Manticore, contemplating her next move in the great strategic game that a double agent must play. As expected, none of the children born to the X5s displayed the heightened attributes of their parents. Nevertheless, she needed to be very careful about her next move.

Her most immediate need was to raise funding so that she could keep Manticore afloat, and hopefully gain back enough technology so that she reproduce soldiers of the same caliber as the X5s. While Manticore's current stock would be useful, there certainly weren't enough of the super-soldiers to provide the type of large-scale military force that the organization was going to need once they got the green light to go forward with the next stage of the project.

Madame X had been charged with a very important piece of that puzzle, and she would be damned before she was going to let her superiors down.

One way or another, she was going to find a way to recreate Manticore technology and expand on it for the world stage.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Lydecker's headquarters…**

Gathered in two distinct camps in Lydecker's base of operation were Max's families: her unit and her siblings. And though they glared at one another with mistrust, with an occasional flirtatious wink by Alec to one of her sisters, they maintained the peace as they listened to Logan detail the information that he had pulled off Valjean's disk.

It was, in short, the most beautiful sight Max had ever seen, and she found herself sneaking small smiles to the man on center stage. Why she felt the need to share her happiness with Logan wasn't currently at the top of Max's to analyze list. She just enjoyed the moment, despite the serious subject, and felt her stomach drop a few inches when he paused in the middle of one of his expositions to give her a returning smile of recognition.

"So basically, there is evidence to suggest that Neo-Luddite agents have infiltrated several bodies of U.S. governments. Both at the state and national levels," Logan finished, allowing the information to sink in.

"So how do we know who to trust, so we can expose Renfro?" Troy asked, exasperated by the delay he foresaw.

"See, that's the thing. This group's activities extend way beyond Manticore, perhaps beyond the United States. However, it seems like a major part of the operation was focused on gaining control of Manticore technology."

"Makes sense that Valjean would expect Manticore operatives to try and take him out," Max conceded.

"To be honest," Logan continued. "I don't know if we can stem off the threat to Manticore by taking down Renfro. It's going to have to be bigger than that."

"How big?" Troy quipped.

"My guess?" Logan ventured, "We need intel set up on most of the U.S. coastal cities: Seattle, L.A., New York, and areas that the encrypt information suggests are targets, as well as some major digging into committees in Washington."

"But what's the objective?" Troy reiterated belligerently.

"How about the security of our country," Logan shot back. "As I told you, the information suggests that the NLU has been conducting its operation in stages. Although I can't confirm it, they seem to be taking credit for the pulse, and if that was stage one I'd hate to see what they do as a follow-up."

"What's their goal?" asked Derek, intrigued as ever by the psychological profile of his enemies.

Lydecker answered, "Same as anyone. Power."

"Well it's not like the United States is exactly on the world's top ten list of most powerful nations," Max retorted. "We can barely feed our citizens, travel is nearly impossible to anyone who isn't obscenely wealthy, and let's not even get into comforts like hot water."

"But it wasn't always that way," Lydecker countered. "The way I see it, the U.S. stood in the NLU's way with at least two important resources. One was the leading world economy, and although it was doing a good job of going to hell in a hand basket on its own, it would still have taken years to be matched. Second was our military prowess, something that we still have."

"And how do you figure that, Donald?" Max snapped. "Last time I checked no one was trembling in fear because of us. At least not for the past eleven years or so."

Lydecker took the time to stare into the eyes of each of his audience members, he wanted them to understand this; it was, after all, the reason he'd done so many of things they hated him for.

"When you kids first escaped, we were right on your tail, one step behind, ready to close in at any minute," seeing the disbelief in their eyes, Lydecker elaborated. "Sure you were able to duck past security and disperse into the landscape, but how long do you think that would have lasted? In a world of order, where security cameras picked up the faces of potential shoppers, where a concerned citizen would have dutifully reported the activities of a seemingly runaway child, when we had photos of what you looked like, and all the resources and time we wanted to look for you: how long do you really think you would have lasted without the Pulse?"

The shifted uncomfortably, considering that possibility.

"All of you could have picked off food for a while, endured the elements, found shelter in available agencies, but you were children. There were only a handful of places to go. How many of you would have ended up with children services – like Max, Syl, and Derek did? How long before one of you did something stupid that would get you caught by authorities, like Zack when he was picked up for armed robbery or Zane when assaulted those hustlers?" Lydecker studied their faces and watched as his words sunk in.

"Yes, I learned of those things. Face it. The Pulse saved you, it allowed you to blend into chaos and get lost in the riotous crowds. You were just a few orphans in a sea of similar cases. And why, you may ask, didn't we get closer to catching you sooner? Why have all of you had more close calls in the last two years then in the previous eight? Because our operatives were too busy putting out fires to look for you."

It was a disturbing feeling to know that they had been saved by the very event that had created global chaos. Did it mean they should give thanks to the terrorists who had crippled an entire society? Was the NLU their unsuspecting benefactors?

Thankfully, Logan was there to dispense of tension. "Good to know that something positive came out it," he commented wryly. "Saved a few kids a trip back to hell."

His voice broke the spell the X5s were under and they began to find ways of shouldering this new burden, just as they always did.

Lydecker's eyes briefly flickered to Logan, giving an amused huff at the man's perception. It would be difficult to manipulate the emotions of his kids with this man close at hand.

"See it as you will, but know this. You, and all of America's citizens, owe a great deal to Manticore and its progeny."

"Yeah? How's that?" Logan asked disbelievingly.

"After the Pulse, with the United States at its weakest point since its formation back in 1776, how long did you expect the mainland to retain its sovereignty? It became pretty clear early on that all the old alliances were off. With the new leaders of the world order yet to be established, countries began grabbing everything they could, as fast as they could. We lost Alaska within the first two months after the Pulse. Hawaii, less than a year in. Not to mention all the territories, military bases, and other valuable land and technological resources abroad." Lydecker responded.

"How do you think we were able to fend off the attacks from Mexico? Stop the succession of Texas? Our satellites were out of commission, our bombing sequences lost. These… kids, the threat of them and what they could do, were what kept many others from attempting to claim a rich hunk of the now debunked American landscape. It was their participation in dozens of undercover operations that made the wrath of the U.S. still have bite. Don't believe me? Ask 624 or 494 about the undercover ops to assassinate key leaders of various insurgent parties. Their prowess is what has kept us on the global stage, a threatening force, long after our economy went to hell," a triumph gleam could be seen in Lydecker's eyes even as he remembered those long ago days.

The list of Manticore's good deeds didn't sit well with the '09ers. They were too used to viewing Manticore as the wholly evil presence at their backs to consider any of its actions pragmatic. In that way they differed from the other X5s, the ones who'd had to stay behind. Those genetically enhanced soldiers had no love for Manticore either, primarily viewing it as a necessary evil, but they didn't need to love it to be proud of it and its accomplishments….of _their_ accomplishments.

It was Max who attempted to bridge the gap between the two bodies.

"So, this group that Renfro's working for, I get their desire to put us out of commission, but why attempt to take us over when I'm sure it would be easier and faster to acquire South African technology?"

"South African technology?" Krit asked.

It hadn't escaped Logan's notice that Max had remembered that detail of their previous interactions, but he chose not to draw attention to it at the moment.

"The Reds," Logan supplied, "Hyper-adrenalinized soldiers with nano-technology implants inserted into their nervous systems. According to my source, they're the most powerful one-on-one fighters available today…even stronger than Manticore transgenics. However, the soldiers, who are recruited from their prison population, burn out in six to twelve months."

Lydecker gave Logan a nod of approval, as if complimenting a star pupil on a correct test answer, before picking up the line of conversation: "Which is why they're essentially useless for anything other than head-on attacks. They require handlers, who are vulnerable. Can't go on long-range missions. And show none of the strategic genius necessary for military operations. They're little better than guns or missiles or fighter planes… and not nearly as elegant."

"Explains why the NLU doesn't want them," Max responded.

"Not to mention it goes against their mission statement," Logan asserted, "According to their beliefs, crime would disappear under a system of economic and cultural balance."

"Sounds, communistic." Krit speculated.

"Sort of, only there is still a hierarchy of elites, still capitalistic… but it's conducted under a myopic system of balance. My guess is that a Neo-luddite would be vehemently anti-socialist," Logan offered.

"Okay," Max pushed forward, "We know why they want Manticore technology. The question remains, how do we prevent them from getting it?"

In a room full of genetically enhanced soldiers and a decorated military colonel, it should have seemed odd to everyone that the person who answered that question was none of the above.

"We begin to set up our own counter-espionage," Logan volunteered. "Find out who's involved, how high up the chain of command, both militarily and governmentally, this goes. Once we get a better idea of the scope of the operation, we'll have a better idea of how to counter it."

"What's in this for you?" Troy demanded, hating the confidence of this ordinary.

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in the well-being of the American citizens," Logan responded guardedly. "And if what I'm looking at here is true, it seems the Valjean found evidence that these operatives were sabotaging efforts to get the U.S. back on its economic feet… I'd say that's the business of everybody."

"A better question is, what's in it for us?" Derek demanded, reminding everyone that not everyone in the room was on the same team. "I mean, you guys," indicating the Manticore X5s, "want Renfro out of power and your own people protected from anti-American terrorist groups, and you" indicating Lydecker, "probably want your old job back, but all we want is to stop running, to have a normal life, and to make sure no one else is going to kill us or loved-ones. Tell me. Why should we bother to undertake this mission?"

"Now listen here…" Lydecker demanded, ready to chastise his kids for what he saw as the skirting of their true purpose.

"No. You listen, Lydecker," Derek interrupted. "We're not your little soldiers anymore, and frankly, we've come as far as any of us planned to. Max is freed, Zack is gone. That's what we set out to do."

Quietly and efficiently, like the soldiers they were raised to be, Max's unit gathered together and settled on a plan of action.

Stepping forward, Troy took the lead.

"We can offer you the anonymity you all desire if you agree to help us. By using our access to Manticore's mainframe, we could delete your DNA records, lose your personnel profile, and make sure that you fall off Manticore, or whatever agency that rises from its ashes, radar. If necessary, we could come up with cover stories that one of us eliminated you while on duty. I think that's legitimately within our power. Plus, this arrangement would give you the opportunity to revenge your brother Zack and your sister Tinga. Renfro has a lot of crimes to pay for, and we could make sure you're in for your share."

The '09ers looked at one another and drew to the side to debate. Their conference took much longer, with a plethora of personalities needing to be heard.

Finally, Jondy took the lead to reply: "We accept with a few provisions. First, we want that offer extended to Max and Brin, if they choose to take it. Second, we want someone assigned to retrieve Zack's body from Manticore's cemetery. Third, we want full access to any information gained on assignment and primary authority for the mission given to Logan."

"No. Impossible." Troy, shook his head.

Quietly, Alec stepped forward to talk in Troy's ear. It was more a sign of respect than a motion for privacy since every X5 could clearly hear what was said. "What's the trouble CO? I mean we need someone off site to manage the logistics?"

"He's an ordinary."

"With apparently extraordinary resources," Biggs pointed out.

"He can do this," Max stated calmly, her position in the room between the two factions. "That is, if he's willing."

"Max," Logan warned, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the attention and responsibility.

Max quirked a smile at him, enjoying watching him squirm, "Yes?"

He glared back at her, until she let out a short chuckle and stated: "It's fine, Logan. I'll be around to help carry the burden. Figure I should take the opportunity of falling off Manticore's radar to find the rest of my memories. Unless you're not up for the challenge that is."

Meeting her dare head on, Logan cocked an eyebrow before meaningfully stating, "It just so happens that I'm up for challenges of all sorts."

It was Max who ended the prolong gaze, a slight flush to her cheeks, aware that she'd lost this round to Logan; it didn't matter, there would be others.

The interaction had been watched with interest by the bystanders: the '09ers pleased with the two's progress, Lydecker annoyed by their chose of Cale over him, Alec piqued by this new avenue of potential mockery toward Max, and Troy annoyed, frowning with a deepening dislike.

Unable to voice his displeasure with Max's choice of location and option to leave Manticore, Troy focused on another clause of their compliance. "Why the body? It's unnecessary and would raise suspicions if found out."

"Because," Brin's voice rang out, unexpectedly from behind Troy, "Zack wouldn't have wanted to end up there."

For the first time in long time, the voice of their sister was heard separate from Manticore, and Max responded by walking over to her sister and looking her deeply in the eyes.

"Yeah," Max nodded. "We owe him that, and so much more."

XXXXXXX

The meeting lasted for a while longer. There were a lot of details to iron out, positions to be set, and alternative plans to be made. However, by the end a plan that even Lydecker was proud of had been put into place. The '09ers would be split into teams and deployed to various known places of NLU involvement. Derek would go back to Washington and and Syl and Krit would follow shortly after and move around the East Coast. Zane, since he already had ties there, and Jondy would head down to L.A. where activity at the ports had been noted. Seth would go to Chicago, while Coreen would go abroad to France and see what she could dig up, having spent the past eight years in Europe.

In the meantime, the Manticore X5s decided to go back to base and find out what information they could before taking off on their own and setting up show where needed. Brin would remain behind as the insider, and Troy and Lydecker were going to act as the liaisons of the group, overseeing the different interactions and remaining mobile.

Troy's position had been one stipulation he'd insisted on before he'd agreed; the other had been conducted privately, away from the group, when they'd taken a break to eat.

Approaching Max as she'd starred out the dirty, factory window, Troy had made voiced his private concerns. "Say we figure this out, Max, and get Renfro removed from Manticore. Things are going to look really different then, and well, a few of us might decide to see what life is like outside the fence walls."

With curious eyes, Max turned toward his profile, measuring his words and attempting to see where he was going with this.

Finally inclining her headed, she conceded, "Not a bad idea."

"Thing is, I need to know that what I want on the outside isn't going to disappear in the meantime," no emotion or hesitation entered his voice, he was perfectly controlled.

"And that would be…?" Max trailed off, wondering if he'd finish.

"You."

Still he didn't turn toward her.

"Troy…" Max shook her head, "I can't promise how I'm going to feel six months or a year from now. And right now I see you as someone who hid the truth from me, who purposely manipulated me for Manticore. I know why you did it, but it's going to take time to learn to trust you again."

Troy nodded, he could understand those concerns; they were logical.

"Just tell me you'll give me the option to try," he insisted, finally turning toward her. "No guarantees, but a level playing ground."

Max searched her feelings. She could do that, she thought, and so she acquiesced.

"Yeah…okay."

Heading back into the room, she'd caught sight of Logan examining her. Quirking her head in question, his hooded gaze revealed nothing of the thoughts behind it. Still, Max's heart sped up as she approached him. The meeting was drawing to an end and they'd soon be dispersing on their various missions.

"Hey," she began.

"Hey, yourself." He greeted her, in a way that felt oddly familiar.

"I was wondering if you could set up that meeting with Original Cindy at your place?"

"Sure. But why there?"

Max shrugged, "Nowhere else to go."

"Sure thing," he offered, aware of Troy's gaze on them the entire time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

Although it was only mid-afternoon by the time they returned, Logan felt like he'd been gone a lifetime. The scenes had been fraught with a series of powerful relations that, as Eyes Only, Logan was grateful to be privy too. If his hunch were correct, that would mean that the lack of progress Seattle had made in the past five years was not due to the degeneracy of the human race, as in his more pessimistic moments he began to suspect, but the reaction to a greater outside force that could be dealt with.

It was a lot to consider, but for now, he was physically exhausted and mentally depleted, enough so, that he was beginning to have wildly dangerous ideas on pressing Max about her memories. It would a stupid thing to do, he knew, and not just because he didn't think he'd get anywhere. No, watching Max and her unit had clued Logan into something he hadn't considered before.

In those seven months, when Logan had suspended living to achieve vengeance for the dead, Max had gone on existing, having experiences and creating… connections that now colored her world. She wasn't _his_ Max any longer.

Before he could get far with those morose thoughts, a buzz from below could be heard, the sign from the front desk that he had a visitor coming up. Within the minute the irrepressible life-force that was Original Cindy came breezing into Logan's apartment, bubbling with excitement over the few memories that Logan had informed her Max had gotten back.

"What's up?" Cindy greeted him. "Where's my girl?"

"Living room. She's waiting for you."

"Did she tell you why?"

Logan shook his head, "She's being rather mysterious with it all."

"Good. Means that Max is on her way back."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max was facing the windows when they entered, looking out over the city with veiled eyes, as if willing herself to recall the sight from memory. At the sound of their entrance, she turned, and gave the small, self-conscious smile.

It was difficult to see her like this and not remember dozens of previous occasions when she'd looked just the same. Despite everything that had happened, she was still here, alive, in his living room and he intended to keep it that way.

Clearing his throat, he broke the slightly awkward silence. "So I'm just going to leave you two. I'll just be in the kitchen if you need me."

Max shook her head, "No. Stay."

"You sure, Max? It's no trouble."

"No, there is some stuff I need talk to you both about and anyway… I'd… prefer to have you close by."

Logan acquiesced and tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible by moving over to the side of his room and checking his laptop. He was there for moral support, an ironic thought given who Max was facing.

With Logan out of the way, Max turned back to Original Cindy, summing up the woman who was wearing bright red pants and a tight back top with sequins. It was exactly the type of outfit that Manticore would frown upon – constrictive, memorable, and frivolous.

"So," Max stated stiffly, unsure of where to begin the conversation, "We use to be friends."

Original Cindy nodded, waiting for Max to continue. When she didn't, Cindy stated an encouraging, "Hell, yeah!" hoping to win Max over with her enthusiasm.

Max shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "So… that means we use to talk… and kick it…"

Her use of the familiar slang was totally off, her language stilted as if she had never used it before, and Original Cindy found herself smiling despite the awkwardness of the situation.

"Yeah, we kicked it… we would hang out at Crash, and work, eventually at our shared pad."

Max jaggedly nodded, before venturing, "Like friends do…"

It wasn't exactly a question, but suddenly Original Cindy understood Max's nervousness. Her home girl had told her once that she, Original Cindy, was her first friend. During the memorable conversation after the attack by the Reds, Max had admitted she'd never had that before. It made sense that with her memory gone, she wouldn't remember how she was supposed to act with her.

Affecting her usual attitude, Original Cindy more confidently stated: "Damn straight. Been friends ever since meeting up at that bike bar down near Portland."

Max gave a smile born of relief; she remembered that: "Some guys were giving you a rough time."

"Three-legged gender can't understand when they aren't wanted. I was handling it too, until his friends joined in…you jumped in and laid the smack down on their asses for real."

Max laughed, "You did alright yourself as I recall. Took down that first guy with a kick that will probably keep him from having children."

OC smiled, glad that Max had begun to relax. "No doubt, Boo. Nobody messes with Original Cindy."

Instead of answering, Max suddenly reached out a grabbed Cindy's arm, "What did you say?" she asked insistently.

"Nobody messes with Original…"

"Before that."

Original Cindy paused, realizing what Max was referring to and catching on to the urgency in her voice. "I called you _Boo_. Because you are my Boo, for life."

Max's expression looked dazed for a minute, as if she was no longer participating in the conversation, a faraway gleam in her eyes. But just before Original Cindy could get worried, Max's eyes refocused on her companion. Taking in her features with a tenderness that hadn't been there before, Max murmured in a voice that couldn't hide its emotional undertones, "You knew what I was, what I am. You accepted it, me. ..And you said we would be friends for life."

"You remembered that, Boo?" Original Cindy asked, her voice cracking slightly, before asking again more assuredly. "Was that one of those magic trigger-things?"

Max nodded.

"You were the first person I ever told what I was," she stated with a bit of wonder in her tone.

"The second." Original Cindy gently corrected, signaling toward Logan.

Max took a second to process that; in her memory she and Original Cindy had been standing in a familiar setting that she now recognized as Logan's kitchen. In her memory, her head had hurt like hell and Original Cindy had said something about putting "that bitch in her head." Obviously, something major had happened and Logan had been in on it.

She gave the man, who was now looking at her intently, a small smile. During the first part of the exchange, Logan had looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he was intruding despite Max's request for him to stay. However, the triggering of the memory had recalled his unabashed attention.

"That right?" Max asked Cindy, never removing her eyes from Logan, wanting to gauge his reaction.

For a moment his blue eyes simply stared into her own, as if attempting to pull out other words of remembrance. It was only after a few seconds that he seemed to recall that a response was in order, and cleared his throat before answering. "Actually, Original Cindy was the first. I found out on my own." Logan offered.

Max's smile grew a little higher, pleased with his small show of emotion. She liked affecting him. "Hmm… can't image I was too happy about that." Max teased, her voice taking on the merest hint of suggestion.

"You weren't." Logan offered, returning her smile and matching her tone with a bit of innuendo of his own.

"I'll be anxious to remember." She flirted, before pulling back. Remembering her mission, Max shook herself out of her reverie and returned to her original nonsense voice. "Which brings me to my next point. There is going to be some stuff I'll be trying to remember in the next few weeks and I'd like to do it on my own, no substitution from you two, unless I ask. It's bad enough keeping everything straight without knowing looks and outside input. Got it?"

"Whatever you want sugar," Original Cindy replied, happily.

"Max," Logan asked, serious as usual, "why put this memory of Original Cindy so close to the surface. Wouldn't it be dangerous?"

Max thought about that, agreeing that it did present some dangers, before wagering an answer.

"It seems I was establishing some sort of pattern when I created my memory loss. It led me to Seattle, then Original Cindy… and I think I realized I would need a reason to trust her. Remembering that I told her about my origin makes my trust in her ironclad. Apparently, I wanted to Cindy to show me my old life – just not as soon as she did."

"So what's next?" Logan questioned.

Max shrugged, "I guess I try to follow the clues, and in the meantime live my life and try to bring down Renfro." Turning to Original Cindy, she inquired. "Would you mind if I crashed at your place? I don't take up much room and I'm sure I probably intended to return there at some point."

"Baby girl, my place is your place, you don't even have to ask." Original Cindy smiled at her.

"Sound good. Just let me check in with Troy, let him know where I'm staying and we'll head out," Max stated before leaving the room.

Logan refused to watch her walk away, aware that despite the practicality of this arrangement he had held out the slight hope that perhaps Max might elect to stay with him. As with most things concerning Max, Logan was forced to be content with what was given.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Max made the called, Original Cindy turned a triumphant smile on Logan before joyfully, if quietly stating: "We got out girl back!"

Logan briefly returned the smile, but it never reached his eyes and OC noticed.

"You gonna let your face in on the good news?" she sassed, surprised that he wasn't beaming with happiness and itching to needle him over his pessimism. "Or maybe you just all tense because you haven't gotten a chance to welcome Max home properly yet. You ain't fooling Original Cindy. Behind that blue-blooded exterior beats a red-blooded member of the three-legged gender."

Logan shook his head before gently responding, "We have a lot of reasons to be thankful, Max is back and she's safe, but at the same time, we need to be honest with ourselves. We can't expect her to just fall back into her old habits."

Original Cindy did a double take, totally shocked by his somberness, "Just cause Max ain't ordering up a beer at Crash yet, doesn't mean she ain't gonna get there!"

"Max isn't the same person she once was, Cindy. She's been through a lot since we last saw her, and the reality is when she gets back her old memories they aren't going to push away the new ones."

"When she remembers fully…" Original Cindy began.

"We can't expect that it will magically change things back to the way there were. We need to understand…Max isn't the same person. And to expect her to be is going to be frustrating for all involved."

"Is this about that those X5 boys Max has been kicking it with back at Manticore? Girl ain't into the GI Joe types, more into the ones with a savior complex. She'll come around, you just stay on your game, boo."

Logan shook his head in amused exasperation. Leave it to Original Cindy to break it down to what she saw as the essentials. "Just tell me you get what I'm saying."

Looking him in the eye, Original Cindy stated: "I do. Now you tell me you get what I'm laying out for _you_. Cuz I ain't been through almost two years of this drama not to see you two getting' busy."

"See? I thought the hetero thing wasn't your bag?" Logan bantered.

"You know what I mean. Now get it together Mr. Cyber savior, cause it's time to lay on the good old fashion charm."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: The freeway of my imagination has become a toll road. Unfortunate, but at least my files have been recovered. So, please help assuage the guilt of poor backup protocol with feedback. For all those kind enough to do so before now, many thanks! **

**And in another matter, this is a special happy birthday to Logan Cale edition. Our favorite cyber-journalist would be 20 today!**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Crash…**

Max let the loud music of the dive bar swell around her, blocking out all coherent thought and swallowing her into the faceless masses. The anonymity, from both others and her own mind, felt like a blessed relief after two turbulent weeks.

During the first half of that time, Max had been barraged with memories. Short films, starring her and her friends which had been constantly passing through her mind in quick succession, making her feel both dizzy and disoriented.

It had begun immediately after the scene at Logan's apartment. Max had been walking down to the parking garage with Cindy when she had once again encountered her beloved Ninja. This time, however, she hadn't just enjoyed the thrill of knowing the powerful symbol of freedom was hers, she'd actually been overtaken by dozens of small, linked memories of her driving her baby.

The memory did more than just confirm the bike's presence in Max's life. It also revealed to her the layout of Seattle's city streets. And not just the map she'd memorized when she got here, but the detailed, illogical construction of side-roads, small passages, traffic patterns, population dynamics – really the in and outs of life on Seattle's streets that a bike messenger learns from experience and to improve a paycheck.

It was more than just an affirmation of her time spent here, Max recognized. It was also invaluable information for someone who wanted to remain hidden and still move about the city. Again she recognized the logic behind her enforced memory loss. It had been structured in such a way as to allow her to protect herself – and more importantly, others – from a threatening outer force as it returned. From Manticore.

It was a difficult adjustment to make, thinking of herself as anything but a lone operator, weird to image herself needing to keep others from the cross-fire, and hard for her to believe she'd ever let 'ordinaries' in, no matter how enjoyable their company may be.

At the time, the pause in her step in front of her Ninja had been enough to alert Original Cindy that another one of Max's memory had returned, and the woman had responded with enthusiastic attitude, demanding to know what Max had remembered. Something about giving up the 411 on her latest golden egg, which apparently was Original Cindy's new phrase for Max's memory triggers. It was a singular experience for Max, or at least a forgotten one, having someone who felt entitled to your private thoughts, who demanded to know what was going on with you, who was able to read you.

She wondered if she'd ever gotten use to it and beat the immediate response to hide. Judging from Original Cindy's reaction, probably not totally. Yet, if anyone could have gotten her past the bull, she was pretty sure it was this woman.

After the short exchange, they'd been forced into silence on the drive home by the machine's powerful roar. It hadn't matter since Max had remembered the way by old as well as new memory. The ride seemed hallowed, somehow, a moment to quietly process everything that had happened and to give thanks to whatever deity had overseen the safety of her family and unit. It could easily have gone down differently, and ended in a tragedy for which Max would never have been able to forgive herself. Her quiet reflection was a well deserved respite from the craziness of her life both present, and apparently, past.

The mood has shifted as soon as they'd entered the building, as Original Cindy initiated the conversation that brought Max back to her former life.

"So, sugar, you remembered me, remembered Seattle, remembered Logan. Not in the order I would of suggested," Max couldn't help but smirk at that attitude she sensed behind those words, "But you there. So what up next? Think you'll remember our crib, this time around?"

Max shrugged, attempting to repress her reaction to the memories that immediately began to assault her as she entered the building. Last time around there had been nothing, a building just like any other. But this time, after the previous memory triggers had been found, bits of images began to slip forward - a graffiti sign reminded her of late nights coming in, the steps of a hot water heater she'd once carried, the elevator doors of a young boy who use to sneak up on her…. It seemed as if her memory of Original Cindy had opened a window of sorts. A look into her pedestrian life, as ordinary, inanimate objects began to trigger a plethora of common experiences. No longer a linear pattern of trigger- then -memory, her recall seemed to widen out into a web of responses trigged by any number of stimuli that she encountered; it was overwhelming.

Still Max kept it together enough to respond to Original Cindy.

"Yeah, I think so. At least in part. I think I created small reservoirs of memories, probably a series of them that bottle necked, and protected other ones."

Max attempted repress a shudder of grief as the door to a particular apartment recalled an old friend who'd died, the name rising in her mind, Theo…

"And, besides," Max continued, putting some sass into her voice, "I didn't remember Logan, first. If I hadn't met him, I still wouldn't know his name."

Ignoring Max's latest comment, she asked, "Original Cindy's not following here, Boo. What you mean by memory reserves?"

"My guess? I probably grouped my recollections by my… different identities. Makes sense that all the stuff that Manticore would find the least helpful, working at Jam Pony, having a friend, living in an apartment, would be up top. And by grouping them with generic triggers, it means I probably won't have to do it in any particular order, until I get to the next batch of memories I was attempting to protect."

"So the Eyes Only dealio won't fall into the wrong hands." Original Cindy added, smiling at the small start Max made at her words.

OC paused for moment in front of their door, as she turned to stare at Max, one hand on her hip, the other wagging a reprimanding finger at her. "Oh, Original Cindy knows all about the blue eyes behind Seattle's favorite cyber journalist, and all those mysterious errands you been running. Found out a couple of months back. And let me assure you that this girl is going to tell you actually what she thinks about you holding out on her once you get your swing back."

A small appreciative laugh at the woman's attitude burst from Max's lips as Original Cindy opened the door to their apartment. She would have responded with equal zest, but her retort was frozen to her lips as Max's eyes scanned the space in front of her, and a bomb of sorts went off deep inside her, rocking her world.

The sight of her former living quarters caused an avalanche of memories to explode within her threatening to choke Max under their weight. She couldn't speak, couldn't move as sensory overload endangered her equilibrium. It was the equivalent to having dozens of flashbacks flooding through her mind simultaneously, as item after item, recalled hundred of corresponding memories.

Max staggered back under the assault.

For a regular person, the memories would be dulled by time, half remembered, and, therefore, less powerful. But for an X5 with perfect, photographic recall it was cramming the events of three years into a space of thirty seconds. Every morning she'd lifted the blue-mug to her lips passed before her eyes. Every time the exposed pipes didn't work. The clothing, barely visible from Original Cindy's room, reminded her of each time she'd seen her friend in one of her outrageous outfits.

It was all she could do to breath.

Finally, after long seconds, she began to come around. She'd recognized that she was leaning heavily against the doorframe, sweat beading her forehead, and that a concerned Original Cindy was murmuring soothing words to her as a cool compress dabbled her forehead.

Focusing on the woman before her, Max murmured a weak, "Thanks."

"No problem. You alright, boo? You look you about to have one of your seizures or something."

That caught Max's attention. This woman not only knew who and what she was, but she also knew about at least one of her genetic flaws. It was going to take a while, to get use to being this exposed to another human being.

"Nah. I'm okay. Just too much at once."

Original Cindy gave her a penetrating stare, but had let the moment pass. Apparently, friends could also tell when not to push. It was certainly a far cry from military command, Max thought, as Cindy pulled her away from the doorframe and sat her on the coach to relax as she heated up some soup for her.

Wrapping herself in a warm blanket, Max acknowledge, no, definitely nothing like Manticore.

XXXX

Taking a sip of her beer, Max smiled as she listened to snippets of conversations flitting around her. A woman off in the corner of the bar was bitching to her friend about some guy who'd stood her up, a man over by the pool table was bragging about some hottie he'd hit with, a couple over by the door was arguing about whether or not they could afford a dog. It was so…regular. So… preciously ordinary.

It reminded Max of dozens of other nights at this place when she'd quietly sat at the bar listening to the same complaints, the same events as she reflect on her own strange life. Despite all the pain and annoyances that she'd undergone in the last two weeks, it had been worth it to have that knowledge. To know what she use to do and to recognize why. It was also comforting, in ways that she'd forgotten, to be able to relate to the 'ordinaries' around her.

Max had remembered that too. What is was like to have a job, an apartment, friends. To see and hear drama that didn't extend to the life or death kind. It had taken some pretty painful encounters, but hell, she even remembered why she'd liked Sketchy.

It had all gone down the night after she'd gotten back. Original Cindy had insisted on taking her back the Crash, the biker bar from their earlier foray. Max knew even before walking down the steps of the dive bar that it would set off another one of the memory bombs – the name alone sparked with electricity.

In truth, she'd been more than little reluctant to have another incident like the one in the apartment, but she'd gone anyway, needing to get it over with.

Like pulling off a band aid, she thought.

Just like before, her senses were assailed by hundreds of minor incidents all demanding attention from her internal databank – it was threatening even to the processing facilities of an X5. She'd attempted to hide how disoriented she felt, allowing herself to be pulled further into the crowd by Cindy's hand.

As they approached the bar, Max saw they had a target in mind, though why this particular individual, Max couldn't even attempt to wager a guess. Vaguely, Max could hear familiar voice of the scraggy guy dressed in bike messenger's clothing running some pathetic attempt at game on a mildly attractive brunette at the bar.

"I'd like to think of myself as a business man, looking for my opportunity to strike it rich," he stated, leaning over into the woman's personal space. "I'm sort of like an opportunity train at the station ready to be boarded."

If Max wasn't so nauseous from the assault on her senses she would have attempted to roll her eyes at Original Cindy; as it was, the other woman did it for her.

"Yeah well, I like my guys to have already arrived at their destination," the woman stated, looking around the bar for another prospect.

The rejection was so obvious, Max would have laughed, expect another wave of memories hit her as she caught sight of the pool table in the corner.

It was too much…. Laughter, bets, Diamond, trash-talk, players, wanna-be players, complaining about work, about Normal…

Max shook her head, attempting to clear it, as she heard OC's voice ring in her ears.

"Sketchy! Get your sorry excuse for a player's behind over here!"

She turned back to the bar in time to see the gangly fellow jump to his feet and come rushing toward.

"Max!"

He was lucky she was close to horking, otherwise she would have laid him out for presuming to wrap his arms around her in a huge bear hug, the scent of bicycle grease and booze wafting over her. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort, but continue to lightly shake her arms in his excitement to see her.

"Damn Max! We all thought you were dead. Where have you been? When you'd get back…"

"Back up, fool. Can't you see my girl is not one-hundred percent," Cindy interrupted, pulling him away from Max by the back of his collar. "You recognize this clown, Sugar? Or is he just freaking you out with all his shouting?"

Max eyed him, before turning to Cindy to ask, "This the Russian mule guy?"

"Yeah, he's the idiot."

"Hmmm… can't understand why we didn't just feed him to dogs," Max smirked, enjoying the way Sketchy's brows were drawing together in confusion. She didn't exactly remember him, but somehow she knew this ribbing was appropriate.

"Listen, that was an honest mistake, Max. I was trying too…. Wait you don't remember me?" Sketchy stumbled, drawing back in disbelief.

"Lost my memory. Car crash." Max bluffed. Original Cindy and she had concocted a plausible story to cover up what Max would be unable to hide.

"You okay? I mean you look good, but…"

"I'm fine."

"She's recovering," Cindy interrupted. "So we need to take Max back down memory lane so she can try and regain her grip on reality."

"O.C." Max laughed, amused by the woman's description of things.

"So you don't remember any of the bone headed things I've done?" Sketchy broke in.

Max looked him up and down before curtly replying: "Nope."

"So as far as you're concerned, I could just be some wealthy, suave, charming…"

"Let's not get carried away," Cindy wryly replied.

"I lost my memory," Max snapped, "Not suddenly became death, dumb, and blind."

"Hey! I resent that," Sketchy had the sense to reply, before shrugging it off and continuing. "It just so happens, I've been reading this book called _The Power of Attitude over the Mind._ It says if you put on the right front, you can get people to see whatever you want to project. In my case, a successful, handsome love toy."

"Uh Huh," Original Cindy interjected. "That what you doing when that shortie dismissed your delirious self?"

"The book says, it takes practice," Sketchy defended. "And Max with her memory challenged mind, will be the perfect practice!"

Max and Original Cindy chuckled at his enthusiasm, finding it hard to believe that the guy had taken Max's reappearance from the grave with such aplomb.

"I don't know about that Sketchy," Original Cindy warned, "Max might have a few more important things to be doing that coaching you on how to live in a dream world."

"We'll see who's got it right," Sketched replied. "And I prefer if you'd call me Calvin from now on. Sounds more respectable."

Max didn't hear Original Cindy's reply. Instead, at the name Calvin, she'd been transported back to a time right after she'd started at Jam Pony.

_She was walking down the streets, Sketchy beside her, as he attempted to do his best to sound knowledgeable and self-important._

"_So it's really no sweat. You just take your time. Deliver a few packages. Stay out of Normal's way as much as possible. If you have any questions or if you're worried about getting lost, I'd be happy to escort you," a slightly younger, but no less scraggly Sketchy had offered, giving her a flirtatious wink._

"_That's alright. I good at finding my way," Max brusquely responded, wondering how long before she could ditch this loser and start making some dough._

_Undeterred, he tried again, "That right? You've got some experience with cities? Where did you say you were from?"_

"_I didn't."_

_They'd continued on like that, for a while, until reaching a specific street corner, Sketchy had turned to her and asked: "You mind waiting here a minute? I've got something I need to do?"_

_Shrugging her shoulder in apathy, Max surveyed the street looking for any signs of threatening presences as Sketchy dashed off on his errand. With her heightened senses, Max was able to discern Sketchy's voice from top of the high steps as someone answered the door._

"_Is Martha here?"_

_Max sniffed. Probably some honey he'd been trying to pick up at a local bar. Just another one of the usual horn dogs she encountered in every city she'd ever been in._

"_She's in the TV room. I'll tell her you're here."_

_A few minutes passed, and Max was just about to yell out to Sketchy that she'd meet him back at Jam Pony when an old woman had appeared in the doorway._

"_Oh Calvin, how nice to see you!"_

"_Hello, Mrs. Montegomery, nice to see you too. I was by the market the other day, and I saw some marigold seeds for sale and I remembered how you always use to have them planted next door. Anyway, I got a few. Figured you might be able to plant them out back."_

"_Calvin, how thoughtful…"_

Max's memory focused back to present as she reexamined the man before her. He was still ridiculous, not to mention a total horn dog, but he was also one of the kindest people she'd ever met. That's why she and Cindy had befriended him, watched over him. She'd seen it for the first time that day, but surrounded by the memories of Crash, Max knew she'd seen it a hundred times since.

Catching up to the thread of their conversation, Max heard Sketchy exclaim.

"God, Normal's going to have an aneurism when he sees her!" He chuckled appreciatively.

"Yeah," Original Cindy smirked. "There's going to be some fireworks.

XXXX

They hadn't totally been accurate, Max recalled.

Unknowingly to any of them, Max hadn't been the first employee to "fake her death" to get some time off work. Not only were they "bums" and "lazy morons" as Normal characterized them at the first glimpse of Max, but they were unoriginal, unprincipled slackers who were doing nothing but insulting his intelligence and wasting his time.

It'd been a good thing that Original Cindy was at her side. Because with the hundreds of flashing, disorienting images filtering through Max's mind, she might have decided shut up Normal's yapping with a blow to his cerebral lobe.

"But Normal!" Original Cindy shot back, "She got swiped on her way back from Portland when it happened. Spent the last seven months in a hospital until she remembered her rainy home in Seattle. She ain't playin' you."

"That so. And why, may I ask, was she in Portland."

"I went to see my sister," Max finally spoke out, meeting Normal's gaze as the nausea subsided. "She was in trouble."

"That so, missy? Well, I've often wondered if degeneracy is inherent or social - thanks for clearing that up for me." Normal snapped, in no mood to deal with their excuses. "And what was it. Drugs? Prostitution? Alarming personality disorders?"

"She's dead!" Max growled, staring at Normal with the type of anger and pain that couldn't be feigned. "And if I recall, you'd be too if we hadn't bailed you out of the jam with the painting."

The memory was somewhat tenuous. Max wasn't exactly sure what she'd been doing in a long-red formal dress, or how she'd found the missing Rockwell, but the story had come rushing back at the very first "bip" she'd heard.

"Yeah… well," Normal stuttered. "Your friend here" signaling Cindy, "took a week off when you went _missing_. If you're going to come back, you and she will have to make up the time."

"I can do that," Max replied solemnly, mistaking Jam Pony for a Manticore mission. It had taken her a little while to get used to ignoring her superiors again, but she'd finally managed to start blocking Normal out just like she use to.

XX

It was good to know some things didn't change, Max reflected, taking another sip of beer and attempting to ignore the headache that was forming at the base of her skull.

For the next few days after her encounter at Jam Pony, small memories floated to the surface, shaken loose by things she encountered during her rides or digging amid her personal belongings: a chess set in the park, a chicken at the market, a glittery tank top. Nothing, that gave her a deeper understanding of herself; nothing that tapped into the well of lost memories that Max knew still existed in the depths of her mind.

Only one event seemed to hint at the next stage of her memory loss.

She'd been back at Crash, just like now, at the end of a hard week, relaxing. Original Cindy had insisted on playing fooze ball, and Max had to admit it'd been kind of fun kicking her friend's butt.

However, as noise from the bar had garnered her attention, Max's glance over had stimulated another flashback.

_Instead of the current regulars, Max looked over to see a man walking toward her with a palpable self-assurance and a small, smug smile. _

_In a way that few people on this planet could affect her, his presence caused her heat-rate to rise and her body to tense in anticipation. But it wasn't the man's sensually handsome face, tall, lean body or piercing eyes, which did that to her – though certainly she was aware of those things. No, it was the fact he'd found her, located her when an entire under-cover military operation couldn't, against her will. And judging from the satisfied way he carried himself, he was enjoying every minute of what he perceived to be their game. _

"_So a guy walks into a bar and says…," Max bantered, prepared to kick ass or flee or win their battle of wills._

"_We didn't get to finish our conversation from the other night."_

_This time, she saw the flash of fire under the exterior. This wasn't just a social call, and it was time to level the playing field._

"_Original Cindy, say hi to by good friend…"_

"_Logan Cale."_

_He willingly, but also knowingly, gave up. _

The memory faded, and Max was left to ponder its significance. It wasn't the first image she'd had of Logan since she'd gotten back to her old life. She'd seen brief, partial memories of them interacting. Those images were about as innocuous as one could image. There were also stripped of any internal reflection. In her recollections of her friends, she could remember what she'd been thinking and feeling at the time of the event, but with Logan, the memories had been altered somehow to be devoid of any introspection.

Just a brief flickers of them playing chess or sitting down to dinner greeted her most ardent attempts at recall. There was no way to tell how often these events had occurred, or with what frequency she'd seen him. And beyond the memory brought on by the Bast statue, there was no hint that he was body and mind behind Eyes Only.

This memory, however, had been different.

For one, he'd been walking, and two, the energy between the two of them had been charged with attraction, suspicion, and distrust. A sharp contrast from the few domestic scenes she'd witnessed, or at least she thought so, unable to access her thoughts during those moments.

Max was sure that this disparity between her views of Logan Cale were meant to lead her to her next memory reservoir, and she'd approached each subsequent meeting with him as a recon mission. Looking around his space, trying to get some feel of what they'd been to one another. Sure that the image of him at Crash would expand itself.

But that had been over a week ago. Since the memories incurred by Jam Pony, her apartment, and Crash, Max had had nothing new to go on. It was if the doors had slammed shut again. Leaving her in the dark.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore…**

Assembled before Madame X were the members of Alpha team, minus one notable exception. It was to that exception that the director directed her questions, deadly angry that 452 had escaped without a single hostage to bring her back.

"So you're telling me that with an entire team of X5s and a brigade of Manticore special ops you couldn't bring in a single rogue soldier or manage to track 452 down?" she scoffed, her slight figure belying the force behind her displeasure.

"As I'm sure the soldiers from your team reported, ma'am, the rogue X5s set off explosions in the building, creating enough chaos for them to escape and drag 452 from the site," Troy stoically explain, his eyes directed forward, his posture erect – just like his team, which stood in a perfectly straight line, flanking him.

"And none of you had the sense to grab her when she dropped in?" Renfro snapped.

It was Brin's turn to answer: "It was our belief that 452 was acting in cooperation with the mission, ma'am."

"Really? So, what do you think happened 734, since you're such an expert on your _sister_," Renfro taunted.

Keeping her eyes forward, her voice clipped and neutral, Bring responded: "It is my belief that 452 intended to remain in rank until she saw the semi-automatic weapon pointed at one of the rogue X5s. Based on her psychological profile, that event was enough to snap her allegiance to the mission."

The description hung heavy over the room as none of the X5s dared to search Renfro's face to see her response. The assessment was in line with what X734 would have said no matter where her allegiance lay, but the implication behind it also laid clear. The person who had screwed up was the one who'd ordered the termination of the X5s – and that person was Renfro.

Unbidden, the sound of Donald Lydecker's voice rung through, Madame X's mind: _"If you try something with these kids you'll get nothing…"_

Damn him. And damn these X5s who were obviously hiding something. The message from the mission site had been clear – the X5s had requested extra time to follow up on a lead about where 452 had gone, and yet they came back empty handed. Not even giving any intel on where she might be stationed, all of it highly irregular.

And if that wasn't enough, there was still the memory of the small rebellion that had taken place shortly before 452's escape.

It's seems that under Renfro's very nose, 452 had managed to sow the seeds of discontent. Renfro was going to have to watch this group very carefully to decontaminate the bin before other good apples went bad.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Crash…**

Max had continued to sit, buried in her thoughts, and enjoying the moment alone, when Original Cindy had approached, setting down a pitcher and hopping up on the bar stool next to her.

"You alright, Boo? You sitting all by your lonesome," Original Cindy asked, looking Max over carefully.

"Yeah. Just feeling a little under the weather. Figured I drink my beer and head home," Max replied, attempting to forestall the litany of questions that she knew she'd be slammed with if she didn't admit to something. The way Original Cindy had been treating her lately, one would have thought she was china doll rather than a highly trained, genetically engineered soldier.

"You do look at little grey around the edges," Cindy acknowledged, earning her a sharp look. "But then again that long, un-styled mess of hair you got going on ain't helping things, nor is your raggedy nails. Like I said before… I'd be happy to fix you up, sugar."

Max gave a small smirk and a large eye-roll to the woman sitting beside her. This had to be one of the most surreal elements of being away from Manticore – the thought that someone cared enough about her appearance to want to waste time doing something like painting her nails.

"Maybe later," Max allowed, thinking it might not be a bad idea to alter her appearance slightly.

"I'm going hold you to that. Between you and roller boy, I could start a regular old beauty salon."

When Max's brows quirked on question, Original Cindy elaborated.

"Which reminds me, you can thank Original Cindy for the good-looking scruffiness that you are currently enjoying. Man decided to forego mixing with the rest of society when I met up with a few months back. Hair all long, side-burns grown out, scruff turned to full out beard. Man was competing with the grizzlies for hairiest species."

Max laughed at the image, finding it hard to picture the meticulous figure of Logan Cale all unkempt. "I'm surprised he let you touch him."

Original Cindy snorted, "He didn't. I just waited for him to get so drunk one night that he couldn't stop me. At least without incurring series damage to ears and neck."

Again the image of a drunken Logan seemed to clash with Max's perception of the man. He reminded her of someone who always needed to be in control.

"So, about Logan." Max asked, even as she pretended to examine the contents of the bar in front of them.

"Yeah?" Original Cindy responded, watching as Max fingered the pitcher.

"Did I, you know, talk a lot about him?" she questioned, her voice purposely casual.

Original Cindy couldn't help but smile at Max's supposedly unconcerned question, aware that she was being pumped for information.

"Not if you could help it," OC responded with a touch of attitude, balancing her hand on her hip and daring Max to push the subject.

Max noted the change and met her gaze. "Listen, I'm not looking for memories or anything. I'm just curious."

OC couldn't contain an undignified snort.

The irony of Max pressing her for information about her relationship with Logan when she'd spent the previous year doing everything she could to hide it, was too delicious to pass up. Despite, Max's memory loss Original Cindy couldn't resist teasing her a bit.

"Well unless you consider the repetition of the phrase, 'we're not like that,' to be useful – which I certainly didn't – then you'll just have to wait until your own memories return," OC sassed.

Max nodded, getting a bit of the picture.

"So…" her friend continued, in a softer voice. "Get any memories back today?"

Max repressed the sharp retort that rose to her lips. Did everybody she knew have to ask her that all the time? Sketchy, Herbal, even Normal occasionally asked if she remembered where she'd left her attitude.

She was so tired of answering. So sick of the looks of disappointment that graced her friends' features every time she responded negatively. They meant well, she knew that, but Max was sick of the attention.

"Nothing. Listen, I'm going go ride, maybe the cool air will do me good. See you later tonight?" Max asked, getting up hastily and throwing a few bills toward the bartender.

"You sure you don't wanna hang…"

"Later." Max called over her shoulder, a small part of her feeling mean to blow off her friend so abruptly, but a larger part of her crowing with the victory of escape.

She had been honest. She didn't feel well. She had a nasty headache and fresh air might be good for it.

She just wasn't sure she wanted to spend the night in the company of her ride.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	18. Chapter 18

**In celebration of getting my computer key-scratchings back, this chapter contains a pre-written scene I've been working up to for quite some time. **

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Chapter 18**

**Manticore….**

Troy laid down in his bunk, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders.

It had been a long day of debriefs, and drills, and dealing with command. 624 wasn't naïve enough to think Renfro believed they knew nothing. He was sure the woman was watching them carefully, ready to strike at the first signs of insubordination. She hadn't forgotten the scene after the breeding partner incident.

In fact, if the attack on the genetics lab hadn't rendered them short staffed, Troy was pretty sure the entire team would have already been hauled off to psy ops for re-programming. As is, she needed to use a lighter touch and was looking to pick out who had been turned.

Despite the sudden chaos of Troy's usually orderly world, he found the changes of late to be a welcome relief to the drudgery of following orders. The missions abroad had done their work on him, making him question what was out there. One particular mission into South Africa, where he'd witnessed the prosperity and relative peace enjoyed by the average citizen, had left deep track marks on his heart.

So too had Max. Her vibrancy and fire; her unique way of seeing the world, not to mention her considerable beauty – had given Troy to something to hope for, to work toward.

He would never have been able to envision a life with an ordinary. To him, ordinaries were both weaker and more powerful than the X5s. Weaker as individuals, and stronger by social order – far out numbering and out maneuvering the soldiers who they'd created. He didn't hate them, per se, he just didn't understand them. Seeing them as another species in much the same vein as Neanderthals and the ancestors to the Homo Sapiens had once cohabitated the planet.

Perhaps there would one day be a competition for supremacy, but that was far from Troy's mind. Currently, what occupied his thoughts were the curve of Max's figure, the softness of her hair, the lushness of her lips…

The irony of how typically Homo Sapien male his thoughts were was lost on Troy as he settled into one of his favorite fantasies, pillowing his hands behind his head and staring up at dark, metallic ceiling.

He didn't have long to enjoy it before an unexpected knock could be heard on his door. Cursing what he considered to probably be a Renfro manipulation technique, he got up and peaked through the grate that separated him from the hallway.

"Sir?" came the low, soft voice of X392. "Permission to enter your quarters?"

"Enter," he responded.

Quietly and efficiently, X392 and X841 slipped into his cell. Both were members of the Beta team, technically subordinate to Troy, but rarely under his direct command.

"Did Renfro send you?" he inquired, determined to get this little exercise over with so he could get back to his daydreams.

"That bitch can go straight to hell!" came the unexpected retort of X392, her angry brown eyes flashing in furry, as a strand of her dark red hair fell in her face.

"Easy," 841 recommended, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

That gesture alone was enough to alert Troy that these two were not acting conspirators for Renfro. Thinking back through his reports, Troy remembered something from the Beta team leader warning him of a growing attachment between these two. Something to look out for and repress if possible.

It wasn't just command's orders that pushed the team leaders to discourage romantic entanglements; in fact, it was because of command's order that they cautioned against it. Any X5 harboring unsanctioned, inappropriate feelings for another individual would be subject to the Psy Ops, a punishment which they tried to prevent as much as possible. Apparently, the message had been lost on these two.

"What brings you here?" Troy asked, this time in a less confrontational tone.

X841 took the lead, "We heard rumors that your unit was acting out against command's rules? And well, we…"

Intimidated by 624's unflinching gaze, 841 paused, wondering yet again if they wasn't going to result in retribution.

However, 392 was far from deterred: "They took our baby. We want you to help us get her back!"

The words hung heavy in the air, and for once Troy let the emotions of those under his command affect him. These two had been partnered, or had manipulated orders, in the breeding program – and apparently had the baby Max had warned him of. The baby who would be taken from them and subject to God knows what horrors.

Troy attempted to cling to his resolve. It wasn't a good idea to bring people in when they were so close to enacting their plan; they could, technically be spies. And yet, from everything he'd heard about Manticore over the last few months, he knew that a shift in loyalties had been taking place. The breeding program, combined with the deterioration of the X7s, took what was already a tentative relationship and shattered the little trust that had been there.

Looking at these two now, with their panicked and angry eyes, it wasn't hard to image that this last action would be enough to drive them to seek out any opportunity to retaliate.

"Please…" X392 whispered. "You know what they'll do to _her_."

Not an _it_, but a _her_. Again, Troy's heart contracted painful.

Yes, he knew what they'd do to her. What they would have done to his and Max's child. They all did.

It wasn't a decision that Troy made with his head, but still atttempted to justify it by reasoning Alpha team would be leaving soon, so the risks were minimalized. Renfro's suspicions would make it impossible to stay for long without risking exposure. It wouldn't be so hard to take these two with them.

Looking them both in the eyes and recognizing the steel and determination behind their facades, Troy began, "Alright, there are some things you need to know…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers, roof top…**

Max wasn't sure what she was doing there. She didn't have any updates on the mission, and he hadn't paged her. Besides, it was late; she wasn't sure he was there, and she had felt like shit all day.

No, as Max considered her reasons for being there, she had to admit that her only motivation for coming to Logan's apartment was an illogical desire. And that thought scared her.

So, Max continued to sit on her perch, peering in through the sky light, debating whether or not she should go down. The warm glow from the lights on the cherry wood made it seem homey and comfortable, she thought. And it _was_ getting a bit nippy outside; even looked like it might rain. Again she was reminded of how achy and jittery she was.

Well, thought Max, isn't this what getting out of Manticore was all about? Being able to do something just because you feel like it?

With a newfound determination, Max lowered herself down the fire escape stairwell, and squeezed through the open window that led to the hallway in front of Logan's door. Finally satisfied that her clothes were straightened out and her emotional walls were up, Max gave a brief staccato knock to the door and began tapping her foot impatiently.

For his part, Logan came to door fairly quickly given that he was in the middle of cooking, writing down information from an informant, and attempting to strap the exo-skeleton tighter around his waist while straightening out his clothes. Judging by the knock and lateness of the hour, Logan figured it was probably Krit stopping in with an update before he took off for D.C.

"Yes, I'll be sure to pass along the information. We'll get back to you in a few days… Uh huh, sure…" Logan was finishing up as he opened the door. As his eyes unexpectedly met with Max's, Logan paused for a second before finally responding "bye" as he clicked off the phone.

"Hey" He was the first one to speak; his surprise and delight at her appearance only partially hidden.

"Hey," Max had allowed just a bit warmness to reach her eyes before continuing, "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you. I can come back later."

"No, just finishing up some Eyes Only stuff. Come in."

Logan tried to keep a nonchalant tone to his voice as he led her into the apartment. He wanted to make it seem as if her arrival was a common and accepted occurrence, but the truth was, Max's visits since getting back had been sporadic and short at best. Her presence was barely registered before she would jump into the latest updates on the mission, any intelligence she had picked up, before blazing out of there.

Therefore, her offer to come back later, along with the lateness of the hour had immediately alerted Logan that this was a different type of visit.

"Are you hungry? I was just cooking dinner," he offered, attempting to make the mood more casual.

"Nah, can't stay. I just wanted to check in see if you had any new information."

Coming to stand before his cutting board, Logan raised his eyes to her. "Nothing on my end, what about you?"

Max had positioned herself in what served as a door frame in the open-spaced apartment, obviously undecided about whether or not to step into the room, ready to turn back if the situation called for it.

"For the most part, it's been quiet, which frankly surprises me. I'd have expected more movement given the defection of an entire unit of their "finest" troops." The topic was obviously a front, but Max had decided that a conversation about the mission would be the best way to approach her objective. It would give her the opportunity to size up her feelings, see if she really wanted to be here and also provide her with a good excuse for bailing if need be.

For his part, Logan seemed willing to play along. "Yeah, well neither the government nor the NLU can exactly go around advertising the point that they've lost the loyalty of genetically enhanced super-soldiers." Logan paused long enough to see Max nod and lean against the door frame. "My guess is that they've contacted a number of bounty hunter groups, circulated your pictures, and will keep a safe distance until something turns up. They won't risk anything more until they know what's going on."

"Yeah I suppose, it's just tough waiting. So… why are you cooking so late? Isn't it nearly bedtime for the majority of ordinaries?"

Logan tried to keep the smile off his lips, though he couldn't be sure it wasn't in his eyes as he responded: "Well this _ordinary_ is a bit of night owl. Plus, you never know when I'll have one of the enhanced crowd stopping in."

It was Max who had initiated the personal conversation, and it was a concession Logan intended to capitalize on. "Would you mind stirring that pot while I finish this up?"

As Max crossed over to the stove, she stated: "Sorry about the "ordinary" comment. Enough time at Manticore where you're either a soldier or someone meant to keep the soldiers 'in-line' and well…"

"You pick up the slang?" Logan finished for her.

As she looked up at him and noticed the slight smile on his face, she relaxed. "Yeah, something like that."

As she stirred, Max couldn't help but let the smell permeate her senses. "Damn, what is that? It smells amazing."

This time, with his back turned to her, Logan allowed a full smile to spread over his features. Ever since Max's admission that she remembered the smell of his cooking, he had kept his frig stocked with her favorite dishes, realizing that one day he'd be able to persuade her to have dinner with him. The familiar moan of appreciation was just so perfectly Max.

"Oh nothing much, just my famous mushroom cream sauce. It's pretty good with some garlic bread and salad. Sure you can't stay and have some? I just happen to have made a double batch."

This time, when Max turned around he saw the hesitation had left her eyes. "Well, if that's the case. I suppose I can make time."

The two of them finished cooking and set the table in companionable silence. Through her body language, Logan could tell that she was tired and unsure. She seemed wary that Logan would begin pushing memories on her, or would expect some sort of explanation of her presence. But as time passed, and as he didn't press her, Max seemed to relax a little, content to allow things to just be.

For his part, Logan was too.

It wasn't that having Max here like this wasn't poignant, Logan knew that later he would reexamine each interaction for traces of returned memory. He just knew that if he had any hope that this would continue he'd had to make it as enjoyable for her as possible.

So he let her set the pace, refusing to comment when he saw her sneak a taste of the sauce, knowing she always did this, but had eventually stopped hiding it from him. He asked her what type of pasta she wanted, knowing beforehand that she would choose the fusilli. He even stopped himself from expressing concern when she said she a headache when he asked her if she wanted wine.

The only momentary lapse came when they began to sit down for dinner. Max had been responsible for putting out their place settings. When Logan brought the bread over, he had nearly stumbled from shock. Max had set up their spots just as their habits had become use to, complete with missing chair for his wheelchair.

Catching his surprise, Max went on the offense, "What?"

She had long since become sensitive to others' reactions to her. She could tell when they were responding to some memory that she obviously didn't share. It annoyed her that they always seemed so hopeful that she was remembering too, and yet she rarely was. The first set of memories had come fast and furious, but it had been a few days now since anything new had been triggered, and Max was pretty sure she'd reached a bottle neck.

"Nothing, just remembering I forgot the pasta." They both knew it was lie. Logan attempted to remain as casual as possible as he grabbed the steaming noodles and moved a chair to his spot.

Realizing her omission, Max eyes shot up to Logan's: "I…"

"No biggie." He'd hastily added. "I forget myself sometimes." He smiled at her, hoping she would take it as a sign the conversation could end. "Fuselli?"

As Max grabbed the pasta, she felt relieved at the out Logan had just thrown her. "Yeah, thanks."

As they enjoyed their dinner, Logan began to tell her a story about his latest Eyes Only case. Apparently, some corporation was supposedly trafficking in human organs that had been acquired by "questionable" means. Max listened as he told her about how his informants were slowly gathering enough evidence for him to go public with it. She was grateful that Logan didn't feel compelled to push her; that for once someone was just able to exist with her in the moment.

Although the topic was a depressing one, there was something about his voice, a cadence about it, that made Max relax again. As if it were a familiar bedtime story or something. At the thought, she let out an audible snort, and Logan looked at her with questioning eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking how the CEO would like having his parts donated before he was done with them." Max's retort was plausible, but given the look that Logan gave her, she knew he didn't believe that's what she'd been thinking.

She felt compelled to distract him, so she said, "You know, this is pretty good. Almost makes up for the fact there's no meat in it… almost." She smiled as she said it, letting him know she was teasing.

He smiled back at her, and raising an eyebrow replied: "Almost?"

As their eye contact continued, Max suddenly knew: "But then again, you already knew that didn't you? This isn't the first time I've had this."

If Logan picked up the sudden chill in her voice, he didn't respond to it. He simply shrugged his shoulders in admission and said, "How do you like the salad dressing?" When she didn't reply, he added: "It's a new recipe."

"It's alright. I'm not a huge fan of the leafy green stuff." Max shifted in her chair, suddenly contemplating if she could make an excuse and leave now. She hated it when she didn't know if she was repeating a previous conversation.

"Well the dessert will make up for it. I'm pretty confident you'll enjoy it." The insinuation that it too was a forgotten favorite suddenly seemed exciting to Max, as did the prospect of having dessert.

Unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice, she asked: "What is it?"

Logan merely smiled, as if to say "you'll see," before he continued: "So anyway, I think I'll do the broadcast tomorrow, unless something unforeseen happens. The public pressure might make them slip up."

Again Logan had provided her with an out, and although Max was grateful, she also knew that Logan had ensured that she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. Yet, his motivation didn't seem to be to push her to remember anything. He simply wanted to spend time with her. The thought was oddly comforting.

"Thanks, Logan."

If he thought the interjection was vague and unusual, he covered it over with the most innocuous meaning he could give to those words.

"No big deal, I was already cooking, not like it was one of my famous spur of the moment, culinary miracles."

Max realized he had just given her the information that these dinners weren't unusual, nor were her late-night visits. However, he had done so in a way that didn't demand a response. Max felt reassured that Logan wasn't going to play with her lack of memory; that he would be respectful.

"No, I mean thank you for not pushing. Sometimes when I'm with people I use to know, they keep trying to jog my memory. It gets… annoying."

Logan nodded, "I can understand that. When I first landed in the chair, relatives, or people I use to know would always drop supposedly casual questions like: Any change? Any twitches in the legs? Any news from the doctors? As if I would be hiding it from them if I'd miraculously regained the ability to walk."

"Course you did miraculously regain it." Max added, with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, sort of… but the point is, their questions just kept reminding me of what I couldn't do. It made me feel…"

"…like a failure." Max finished.

The two made eye contact. An electric current of understanding seemed to snap between them. This man, Max knew, had been more to her than just a business acquaintance. Between them was a connection, made by both experience and nature. It was intense, raw, and sacred. Even though she couldn't recall their exchanges, she knew they didn't talk about their connection. Words were the enemy.

"You're not a failure Max. You protected all of us." The words reach out to lap her wounds, as his hand lifted of its own volition to touch her. Before it crossed the distance, however, Logan recalled it, seemingly startled at his own audacity, and pretended to reach for the bottle of wine instead.

To the average onlooker, the transition from deep tenderness to aloof sympathy would have gone unnoticed. Max even questioned whether he hadn't always intended to reach for the wine. His poker face was very good, his hands steady. Yet there was something about the dance that was too practiced, and so oddly familiar. Besides that, there was her memory of how she had awoken in his arms. His impassioned whispers of her name, the heated touch of his lips. Her gut reaction to him had scared her; she had wanted him and had been disappointed when he stopped kissing her. Max knew the feelings had been much too visceral to simply have been caused by his handsome face.

Even looking at him now, Max felt desire begin to pool in her stomach. Irrationally, she wanted him to touch her.

Partly as a distraction and partly because she was now curious she asked, "So did we do this dinner thing often?"

Logan gave her a full smiled, please he hadn't scared her off with his gesture. "You might have seen me as something of a 'meal ticket' if I recall correctly."

"Hmm… that right? Well then, I consider you not telling me as holding out. And I will collect accordingly."

There was something provocative in Max's reply, and for the second time that night Logan began to feel his blood quicken. "If you feel that way about dinner, wait until you have dessert. You might decide to kick my ass."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Logan hadn't been disappointed with Max's reaction to dessert. If anything, she was more appreciative of his food after spending so long in Manticore.

"God Logan, if I didn't know you were capable of producing more goodies like this, I'd definitely need to kick your ass for holding out." Her smile was genuine.

There was something about the way Max approached food, as a genuine luxury, something that should be savored, that made her Logan's all time favorite person to cook for. Of course she was beautiful and intelligent and he enjoyed her company, but he also felt that enjoying a dinner with Max made him more appreciative of the smaller things in life.

"Coffee?"

Logan didn't want to push, but the night had been going so well, her level of comfort rising with each passing minute. He didn't want her leave; he wanted to see how far this could go.

"Sure, but I'll get it; it's only fair since you made it."

It took a few minutes, but Logan didn't mind. He just sat there, listening to Max clatter around his kitchen, probably making the substance either to strong or too weak. He didn't care. Just the opposite, he could barely wipe the grin from his face.

Carrying the cups in from the kitchen, Max asked, "Where do you want to drink it?"

"The living room," Logan answered, standing to retrieve his cup from Max. The change in his position seemed to spook her, as Max stepped back from him an inch or two. The motion was hardly anything, and on a regular person Logan might have dismissed it as chill, but with Max, the move was the equivalent to a leap backward.

"Max?"

"What?" she asked, completely ignoring the interaction as she extended the cup again. This time with a steady hand.

Logan didn't take it, but waited for an answer to the question they both knew hung between them. In true stubborn defiance, Max waited a moment or two with the cup outstretched before shrugging her shoulders and setting it down on the table beside him. Turning, she headed toward the living room, leaving Logan with no choice but to follow.

"Can't stay much longer, got some stuff I want to do," Max offered, laying the ground work for her escape, as she took a sip of her drink. It was still too hot to down quickly, and so she had a least another few minutes before she could blaze.

Without responding, Logan sat on the other end of his couch, looking over at her with the same question in his eyes. Again, his actions seemed to make her uneasy as she her shoulders stiffened and her eyes momentarily flickered over his form.

Logan let a few heart beats pass, before stating, "You know we knew each other for a year before you went away. Spent a lot of time involved in dangerous or high-tension situations, and I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've seen you flinch."

Max shrugged, "They frown on that sort of thing at Manticore."

Logan nodded, continuing to look in Max's eyes and waiting for a response. In all probability, it wasn't the best strategy, but he couldn't bring himself to care, so tightly restrained by the other restrictions put on their limited contact. If she couldn't remember everything, than at least he wanted to know what she remembered to make her run.

His steady gaze, and more importantly, reclining position – eventually prodded Max to answer.

"I have a few memories of us," Max finally conceded, beginning slowly as she attempted to articulate something she sensed was a sensitive subject. "Nothing special. A few glimpses of you cooking dinner; sitting at your computer; a game of chess or two…"

A small smile graced the corners of Logan's lips, and Max felt comforted by it.

"I think I remember being here when…. I wasn't feeling well," she offered, hesitantly.

Logan nodded, her seizures.

"Guess I trusted you."

"We watched out for one another," he confirmed, both acknowledging that he was following, but also reminding her that she hadn't answered his question.

"Thing is, in my memories, you're always in the chair. I mean except for when I broke in. I guess… it's sort of startling to have you up and around. Like a discordant note in a familiar song or something," Max shrugged, attempting to brush off the significance of her words.

"Makes me kind of jumpy," she finally admitted.

Logan didn't really have a reply to that, and wasn't exactly sure what to feel. He'd spent so much time trying to get back on his feet that it never occurred to him that Max would see it as anything but a positive. Even now he wasn't sure if she was just stating a preference for the familiar or a deeper desire to have him seem like less of threat.

Max took his silence for annoyance and attempted to lighten the mood, "Guess you must have busted that thing up pretty good."

"Huh?" Logan replied dully, stunned from his reverie by her odd words.

"Your exo-skeleton. You didn't use to wear it a lot before. Not after our first meeting. Figured you must have broken it," Max clarified, blushing a little now.

Stuck dumb by the implication of her words, Logan realized Max had no memory of the shooting. The event which had changed his life and redefined their relationship. It brought to mind all the other, unpleasant, memories for which Max had yet to recall. Thinking back to some of their fights, to their first few meetings, to the mirror incident, Logan felt a weight of dread settle in his gut. He needed to preempt some of it, to at least warn her of what was to come, if only he knew how.

Again her words broke through his thoughts.

"Hey if I brought up something I shouldn't I'm sorry," Max stated, her embarrassment hidden, but recognizable to Logan, behind her sarcastic retort. "Should of known better than to ask after a guy's equipment."

"Max…" Logan began, ignoring the previous comment. "I'm not sure how much I should tell you, but you should probably know that the incident that caused my paralysis came shortly after we met."

It was Max's turn to become lost in her thoughts as she processed that information. On some level, she'd already known. There hadn't been the whirling sound of the exo during their encounter at the bar. His gait was also somewhat different then, less stiff, more confident. Seemingly from nowhere, a irrepressible fear insinuated itself in Max's mind, and before she could help herself, she asked:

"Was I responsible?"

"Not unless your name is Bruno Anselmo and you work for a corrupt mob boss," Logan temporized.

Max nodded, but still the haunted look didn't leave her eyes, and she soon rose to her feet to go stare out the window.

Logan didn't follow, but watched her form, processing her words and considering their import on their relationship. He was looking at her when the first tremor hit her. Nothing much, a shiver of cold to someone else, but he was familiar with signs, aware she'd rejected a glass of wine with dinner.

Attempting casual concern, he asked, "Feeling okay?"

"Like I said earlier, I'm not feeling so hot," Max replied.

How much did she remember, he wondered, sure she had no idea how completely her words mirrored that first time he'd encountered her seizures. He knew she never would have said it like that if she knew.

Remembering what she'd said only minutes before, Logan resisted the urge to go to her, to turn her body toward him and look her in the eyes. It wasn't easy. More than anything else, Max's seizures made Logan feel both protective and tender. It undid him; broke down his walls and compelled him to touch her, even when he'd been in the deepest denial. It made him rue his disability, angry that he couldn't scoop her up and cradle her. Reminded him of her vulnerability, even when no other chink showed in her armor.

Another involuntary convulsion rocked her frame, and when Logan let it pass, Max reluctantly came and sat back on the couch.

Still he didn't move, but asked, "Do you have your tryptophan?"

She gave him an annoyed look, before finally jumping to her feet, exclaiming, "Dammit! I…"

A stronger tremor, forced her to sit down and with panicked eyes she turned to Logan, "I haven't had a seizure since leaving. I forgot about them. God, how stupid! Logan…?"

"I've got you covered, Max." Swiftly he left, going to the bathroom's medicine cabinet, and taking out the precious pills that he'd never even considered throwing out when she'd been taken. He'd wanted to feed her the pills, aware of how unsteady her hands were, but she didn't let him. She'd grabbed the bottle and ripped open the lid before he'd been able to stop her, swallowing a large handful. She refused to give up control, yet she hadn't bothered to check the label. Trusted him enough not to feed her poison, but not enough touch her.

Close enough to be there, but far enough not to be threatening, Logan realized. Which made him wonder how much of Max's trust in him had been caused by that combination. For the first time he recognized how the wheelchair might have been an asset in their early relationship. It forced him to go slow, when he'd rather of run. Made him vulnerable, which in turn had let her be.

Reaching a decision, he walked behind the armchair and pushed it close to the couch where Max was now stretched full length. Compromise. He could watch her from here, but he wasn't holding her the way her wanted to.

Tilting her head to look at him, Max gave him a small, sickly smile before stating, even as she seized: "You know… back at Manticore… I use to look forward to these things."

Logan attempted to smile, absently asking, "Yeah? Why's that?"

"Got me out of latrine duty," Max bantered, before giving up to more violent spasms.

Only a small huff of amusement greeted her humor. Logan couldn't concentrate on anything but the increasing shakes of her slight figure as he watched for signs that the tryptophan was working. Gradually, he saw what he was looking for, and unable to resist the urge, he'd gently reached out to stroke her hair from her forehead, noting the way her eyes closed and the small sigh she let out at his touch.

Part of him wanted to ask why she'd come here. Had she subconsciously recognized the signs of the seizure and put it together with the half-memory of seizing in front of him? Did she remember that he might have tryptophan, or be able to get it? Or was it some deeper desire? A more basic instinct. To go to a place of safety, where she knew she'd be taken care of.

He didn't totally care which it was. What mattered was that she was here where he could help her. As always, their relationship was a mass of contradictions. A blend of complete trust and hidden secrets. But at least she was here.

Thinking back to the information Max had disclosed to him tonight, Logan came to recognition. Whatever she said, Max remembered more than she knew.

XXXXXXXXX

_Thanks to Lisa for her Beta and continued support of this story._


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: For those reading along, a quick apology for not posting sooner. I don't tend to write in chronological order and the connecting material just wasn't happening. However, that also means I can promise that the next installment will be finished much more quickly.**

**And for those of you feeling like you maybe amidst a never ending quagmire of directionless storyline, take heart. This story does have a plan, and according to my outline, has among six to eight chapters left (actual estimate is seven, but it's not an exact science). So without further ado…**

XXXXXXXXXXX

Max balanced on the precarious window ledge outside the office window. The night was dark, and her form well concealed in her black cat suit.

It was also unseasonably warm, something she was thankful for, considering she'd been standing outside for the past forty minutes, waiting for the man inside to pack up his things and head home. Unfortunately, he seemed to have a thing for working late, and it was all Max could do to keep from slipping inside and knocking him out cold so she could get what she needed. As it currently stood, she was steadily growing moodier with each passing second.

As the man reached for what looked to be the light switch of his desk lamp, Max leaned in closer, hoping this was finally it, when he instead picked up another folder and continued plucking away.

Cursing softly, Max decided this was all Logan's fault. He was the one who insisted that each and every member of the list that Krit and Derek had uncovered in a senator's office in Washington D.C. be checked out; he was the one who said they needed to find concrete proof linking every individual to the NLU before their name could be submitted for his hacks.

Stupid Logan and his damn principles, she huffed.

Max could have been enjoying a beer at Crash or filling that tub in her apartment with boiled water to take a nice long soak, instead of hanging out here, warding off a case of vertigo as she waited for this guy to join workaholics anonymous. Hell, he could bring Logan with him while he was at it, Max murmured darkly as shifted her weight onto her other foot.

Between the information gathering and the clandestine meetings with Lydecker, Max was pretty sure Logan did little else but cook and sleep.

Not that she minded, she thought to herself. It was just, for a moment there, she'd felt something else from him. A sense of safety and peace… and warmth….

Whatever.

She didn't believe in fairytales or romance stories. Logan Cale wasn't some saint or knight in shining armor preparing to fight off her inner demons. He was just some rich guy with the hero complex, who happened to have a supply of tryptophan readily available. So what if he had solicitously stayed by her side that entire night, murmuring soothing words to her and stroking her hair back in a way that made her scalp tingle. It's not like she needed to stick around the next morning and say thank you. Just like it wasn't her place to worry about his state of mind or condition of his body when she stopped by after a mission to update him.

Not her problem, not her responsibility.

And it certainly wasn't any skin off her back that Logan refused to listen to reason when it came to his own safety. It wasn't her place to remind him how stupid, crazy, and utterly reckless it was to draw Eyes Only into this whole NLU thing. Far be for her to mention that he should stop and take a back seat, rather than insisting on using his alter-ego to distribute the inflammatory information. Not on her at all. And she wasn't going to waste time thinking about it…

Rolling her eyes as the guy in the office stretched, noting with slight envy that she wouldn't mind unclenching her muscles or rolling her shoulders given her current position – Max couldn't help but remember how similar that action was to Logan's when he'd spent an obscene amount of time on the computer. Something he apparently did all the time, since Max had yet to stop by after the seizure incident without encountering him on the thing.

Logan was pushing himself to find every little detail about the NLU, a precaution which Max thought was ridiculous given the circumstances.

Information on the organization had been surprisingly easy to find as they'd all come to realize. Years of flying under the radar had made them cocky, and their high-level positions made many of them feel seemingly untouchable. And to some extent they were right.

Given, what Krit and Syl had uncovered, the government positions were well-placed to fend off any internal or external review. In many cases, investigations would require those underneath the NLU members to be empowered against higher level, sometimes extremely higher-level, officials in the same organization. An event that the fear of retribution would make unlikely.

Logan had figured that it would take more than just notifying the authorities against the breaches. It would take a mass-scale public-opinion campaign that was backed by concrete evidence to spur people into action. And for that, he and Lydecker had devised a three-step plan for the dissemination of information on the NLU, which would require Eyes Only to be the central hub.

Stupid.

According to Logan, the public not only needed to know what was going on – they needed to be educated on why they should care. It was vital for them to realize just how threatening the NLU was to their lives before enough public outrage could be generated. To that end, the X5s had been given as one of their top priorities the task of finding conclusive evidence linking the NLU to the Pulse.

Nothing else would create such instantaneous rage as proving the NLU had reduced America to its current poverty-ridden state. Even those who couldn't remember what life was like before the Pulse, knew enough to resent the nuclear blast that had turned the information age into the stone age. It was something they had yet to accomplish, but in the back of Max's (and certainly Lydecker's) mind was the notion that the trust the public had in Eyes Only would be enough to convince them to willing believe his story even without what Logan saw as that all important evidence. It was something to think about, even if it was a last resort.

The next step in their plan to cripple the NLU would be directing that public outrage. To give people something to do with their anger. Logan was worried that acting now might create a mass-scale public fear-epidemic. He didn't want to alert the population to the monster in their midst and then leave them to enact another McCarthy-era blaming disaster. No, by Logan's orders, if they were going to do this they needed to plan carefully and act swiftly. Something that both Max and Lydecker could see the validity in. So they needed to find and confirm the identities of the NLU operatives before the first cable hack ran.

Which was why Max was currently perched on the this ledge, and why her siblings and unit were working around the country and into France penetrating government, military, and police offices to access the private files of each member, sending all of the intel to Logan who was currently obsessing over creating a detailed web of NLU operations.

The guy seriously needed another hobby.

Not to mention he needed to buy a clue. Max knew that as soon as the cable hacks began to run in a series of nation-wide pieces, stage three of the mission, Eyes Only would become the number one target of the world's leading terrorist organization. Each hack would multiply the danger to Logan's person, as his firewalls would endure assaults from the world's best hackers, and as the world's leading assassins would be given substantial rewards to deliver his body, preferably dead. What kind of a dumb-ass would insist on being a part of that mix?

For all his considerable intelligence, Logan Cale was, in Max's opinion, quite the chump. If she were him, she'd have just sat back and enjoyed his tricked out apartment and watch the huddled masses move below in faint, unrecognizable patterns.

That's what any reasonable person would do, and yet Logan continued to challenge her notion of human nature on every level. She couldn't help but ask herself: what would motivate a man to try and save the world? Was it guilt? Compassion? Anger?

Others experienced those things, yet remained inert and self-involved. Others recognized the need for change, the suffering of those around them, but did nothing or almost nothing about it.

So what motivated this man to do more than just feel? What compelled him to actualize those feelings and to risk everything he had to help the nameless, faceless masses? Surely there had to be an internal source of empathy that went beyond the normal passing emotions that drive a few to donate time or money.

Recognizing the reverie behind what she'd just thought, Max huffed in self-derision. Logan wasn't some great and powerful god or protector of mankind; he was just some guy with a death wish and a lot of spare time to throw around. Not to mention a fair bit of hypocrisy.

After all, it had been Logan who had the audacity to give her words of caution before as she'd left on this mission, not more than three hours ago.

"_I'm hoping that you'll put your cat-burglaring skills to use – get in and out with no one being the wiser. With Zane and Krit slipping up, we don't want a third breech to draw suspicion."_

"_I think I can manage," she'd snapped, inexplicably annoyed with him as she'd turned to leave._

"_And Max…" he called, waiting for her to turn around before stating in a less distracted voice with blue eyes clear and focused, "Be careful."_

_She remembered the flood of warmth at his words and had need to quickly trample down on her body's response before uttering a less irritated, "Late."_

The guy was insane, straight up daft. Who else could risk their life repeatedly, and then speak words of cautionary advice like he was a mom, telling her kid to be careful crossing the street. Apparently this guy, who perplexed Max more than anyone she'd ever met.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the guy in the office finally switching off his desk lamp and retrieving his coat before exiting the room. Silent as a wraith, Max took out a screwdriver and began working at the window to gain entrance.

Twenty-minutes later, she was back on her ninja, evidence in hand, blazing toward Fogle Towers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

Hearing the familiar stroke of the computer keys as she quietly entered the apartment, Max felt the nearly uncontrollable urge to sneak up on Logan and shock him out of his information-searching coma. Get his blood flowing, Max thought with satisfaction, before noticing the sounds of movement that signified additional bodies. Immediately, she paused attempting to determine whether the sounds came from friends or foes.

"Can you get them into Canada or not?" barked a familiar voice, and Max's body relaxed.

Definitely a friend, but she wasn't sure Logan would consider him that.

"Yes. If you'd stop interrupting every few seconds, I'll be able to finish this up and get you more solid details," was Logan's snappish reply.

A memory tingled at the edge of Max's vision. This annoyed exchange between the two men reminded her of something… something recent. Something concerning… Zack? It was too deeply buried to access it totally, but Max suddenly had the distinct impression that Logan liked neither of her COs, and the feeling was mutual.

"We appreciate your cooperation," joined a third, also familiar, but unidentified male voice, interrupting the trend of Max's thoughts. "We could probably sneak in, but it would be less expected for us to take legitimate channels."

"As long as my other contact comes through, I should also be able to get your work papers. That way you'll be able to continue the ruse and perhaps live under the radar in plain sight," Logan replied, his voice had automatically softened once he'd left off speaking to Troy.

Max was about to announce her presence, when an arm quickly snaked around her neck, covering her mouth and yanking her hard again the hostile body behind her.

"Who are you? And what do you want?" hissed the voice in Max's ear.

Max didn't like being surprised, it annoyed her, and she was just about to demonstrate just how much when Troy's voice run out from the other end of the hallway.

"X392, desist," he commanded, glaring over Max's shoulder at the X series who held her. Immediately, Max was released, as the body stepped away.

The identification was familiar to her, a member of team Beta, but still Max felt confused. Why were she and Troy here at Logan's? And why hadn't she been informed that Troy would be stopping by tonight? His original directives were to follow members of her unit to different points along the West Coast until they were safely established.

Something was off, and until Max figured out what, she wouldn't be able to let her guard down. She resisted the urge to quickly turn on her assailant and instead remained still as the woman circled round to the front. Red hair, haunted eyes – Max identified her as another one of Renfro's victims.

"Sorry," the woman offered, "We're on high-alert."

Instead of responding, Max directed her look to Troy, raising her eye brow and waiting for an explanation. If Logan was in danger then she damn well should have been contacted.

Troy didn't answer immediately. Instead, Max noticed his eyes tracing her body, taking in the outfit she was wearing.

She had changed into street wear before coming over, determined to collect on her earlier efforts by coercing Logan to cook for her before heading over to Crash before last call. A feat that she couldn't accomplish without first changing out of her cat suit.

For Max, the transition into wearing 'street clothing' had been an easy one, as she'd quickly settled into her old style. Tight shirts, dark pants, leather jackets. Still practical enough for kicking ass, but with a slight flair that made it obvious she wasn't being ruled by Manticore ops standards. Her outfit wasn't flashy or particularly showy, but as Troy's eyes took their time wandering up her body, lingering over the exposed patch of skin below her navel, Max felt like she was wearing one of the purposely revealing outfits usually patronized by Original Cindy.

It made Max feel slightly disconcerted. Like she was in a line up for training and had somehow forgotten her directions.

"You modified your appearance," Troy commented, letting the stiff words be contradicted by his hot gaze.

Shrugging to overset her awareness, Max answered: "Seemed like a good idea. Blend in."

"The hair?" Troy asked, daring her to find a reason beyond her own vanity to answer that change.

"My roommate's idea." Max replied stoically to his baiting remark, aware that this was his way of teasing her. "Said it's the way I use to wear it."

"Looks good," Troy acknowledged. "But then there was nothing wrong with how you looked back at Manticore either."

"Except the place surrounding me," Max reminded him, her intent to move beyond this odd conversation about her looks.

"But not the company," Troy threw back, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

The subtext was clear. While Troy was perfectly willing to allow Max to assimilate into her surroundings, he wasn't going to let her forget where she had come from and those who had a claim on her. A response that made Max feel connected and constrained simultaneously.

In her mind, she contrasted Troy's reaction against Logan's, remembering the way the other man had responded when he saw the change. Unlike Troy, whose simple words conveyed a message of warning and desire, Logan's non-verbal response conveyed hope and heat.

It had occurred a few nights after her seizure. Max had stopped by, all too conscious of her Original Cindy snipped locks, which the other woman had assured her made look _fine_ and _free_. Two things that Max was content to express, as long as she didn't seem like a chump doing it. She was only too aware that she didn't need to stop by Logan's to give him an update; that a phone call would suffice. Still she'd sped off, enjoying the way her hair didn't whip around her quite so violently and uncontrollably as she rode her bike.

Typically, he hadn't noticed anything at first; his gaze locked to the monitor in front of him. But a few words exchanged later, his eyes lifted and locked as he observed what Original Cindy had said looked like "the ghost of Max past."

Then his burning gaze had swept over her as if measuring her against an invisible model inside his mind. When his eyes finally looked with hers, Max knew she had more than past muster.

"Original Cindy," she offered by way of explanation.

"Yeah, me too." He replied, sweeping his hand through his own spiky hair, a gesture that made Max feel slightly warm.

They hadn't said anything else after that, but had returned to business, discussing future missions and potential NLU haunts. It wasn't until she'd turned to leave that he'd said by way of goodbye, "Tell Cindy I've always liked the curls too."

She'd left with her face burning, self-conscious, and not a little bit pleased.

XXX

"So you want to tell me what this is about?" Max demanded of her former CO.

"There's been a change in plan," Troy offered, somewhat tersely. "X 841 and 392 here were part of the Manticore breeding program, and asked for help in retrieving their offspring."

A decidedly incredulous look met Troy's explanation. Max was surprised that the stiff Manticore transgenic had been persuaded to breech op set for such a reason. Given his decision to go after Max, it was starting to be a pattern.

"A change which we're grateful for," was X392's sudden responded.

"So you're here…" Max began.

"To get sector passes and passports to go to Canada," answered Logan, who'd entered into the hallway moments before.

"I was going to suggest they sneak in, but Cale here said he could work something less risky out," Troy responded, obviously displeased with the new arrangement. "I think it will look just as suspicious."

"And like I said before, it will be less obvious and allow them to live more stationary lives," Logan shot back.

"Which is what we want," added X 841, who entered into the fray.

The conversation was interrupted by the cry of baby, apparently being kept in Logan's living room, and then the sounds of X392 as the female transgenic went to shush the child.

Max smiled at the father, who had a dismayed look on his face, "By the sounds of it, you'll have your hands full anyway."

Smiling back, X841 responded "You have no idea."

His remark was punctuated by a second cry that was added to the wailing. Raising her eyebrows in question, Troy offered, "There were two children in the nursery."

Following the sounds, the entire party made their way into the living room where a harassed looking X 392 greeted their entrance with a huff of relief. "Take him," she stated to her partner, referring to the halfway calmed infant in her arms.

It was Max, however, who immediately stepped to her side, cradling the newborn. The other X5 gave her a grateful smile and took up the other child, beginning the rocking motion all over again.

"You didn't know which was yours?" Max asked, as she studied the small face in front of her.

"We knew," X392 replied. "We just… It was just… He's ours too."

Max understood. "Yeah."

The three men stood in the across the room, taking in the sight that felt foreign but not unpleasant.

It was nearly a full minute before Logan cleared his voice and suggested: "Shall we get this finished?"

The three men ended up working out names, papers, and files in the living room on Logan's laptop, X841 unwilling to leave his companion, and the other two more than willing to stay close at hand to Max as she chattered with the former member of team Beta.

Twenty minutes later, documents printing, names freshly minted, Logan and Troy were haggling over the details of the exchange when Max's voice caught their attention.

"They're beautiful," Max cooed, the softness of her voice causing both Troy's and Logan's eyes to look over at her. "I'm glad you were able to save them." Her eyes were shining, a small smile gracing her lips for little baby in her arms. It was seductively domestic.

The spelled lasted only momentarily, as both men almost simultaneously realized where the other's focus lay, and determinedly turned back to the task at hand, a grimace apparent on both their faces. For Logan, it was but one more painful confirmation that the man beside him didn't harbor platonic feelings for Max.

And despite his reaction and Original Cindy's demand that he 'turn on the charm', Logan was reluctant to engage in a competition with the other man for Max's affections.

It didn't help that the guy was fully in charge of all of his limbs. Although Logan had tried to shake off Max's words when she'd awoken in his apartment, they clung to him, taunting his insecurities, and forcing him to once again encounter the demons that she'd once helped to bury.

Despite what he knew Original Cindy would do to him if she found out, Logan found himself wondering if Max's time in Manticore had made her less willing to deal with a man with physical shortcomings. Because paralyzed or not, Logan would never be Troy's physical equal.

"These look really authentic," X841's, now named John, voice interjected into Logan's thoughts.

Walking over to examine the documents, Max concurred, "Nice work, Logan. I think this plan just might work."

Her praise caused a small smirk of satisfaction to spread over Logan's face that was intensified by the corresponding frown on Troy's.

"Let's get this over with," Troy barked, waiting will ill-concealed patience for the other three X5s to gather their stuff and ready to depart.

When the door finally slammed, Logan found himself analyzing the recent situation like always.

And despite his usual insecurities, a small part of him wondered if he hadn't been selling himself short. Perhaps there were other ways to compete with an X5, Logan mused as he returned to his desk.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Outskirts of Seattle…**

Wind swirling around them, the two transgenics stood side by side as they watched their Manticore counterparts bypass security and make their way into Canada. The sector passes had checked out, just as Max knew they would, and now it was up to Troy to get the second baby to a point in the Canadian fence where he could pass off the child to the anxious new parents. Two children had been considered too risky since Manticore would be looking for just that, so approximate coordinates had been set to make the exchange.

As they waited, Max shushed the baby in her arms, carefully bundled up against the chilly gusts of winter weather. Glancing over at Troy's face that watched with stony patience, Max finally spoke.

"I'm surprised you let them take both of children," Max stated. "I assumed you would have thought it was too much of a risk."

Troy didn't answer immediately, but finally, responded, "It was."

"Manticore's most decorated son taking unneeded risks? Hard to believe."

Max wasn't exactly taunting him, but she knew Troy well enough that this breach in protocol - not just the abduction of both children, but even the inclusion of the two X5s into their plans - was an unprecedented risk for the commanding officer. And she wanted to know what had brought it on. And baiting was her best option.

Troy frowned at her, clearly annoyed with her choice in wording. "They didn't exactly give us medals of bravery, Max. Unless you want to count notches in our files for the number of people we killed."

"Still. Babies aren't exactly militaristic assets," Max replied, silently squeezing the child her arms a little tighter to make up for the harsh words that she felt like she needed to utter.

"They're not. They were…" Troy paused, at the brink of an emotional pit that he wasn't sure he wanted to tumble down. Yet, he felt himself sliding in nonetheless as he recalled the scenes which had brought about his impromptu decision.

"Dammit, Max." he finally, breathed. "You should have seen it. Rows of cribs, set in a stark, cold room in the medical wing. The babies were crying, Max… sobbing. Could have been crying for hours for all anybody was around to hear."

He paused, unsure of where to go with his description until he finally released the anger boiling below the surface. "Screw them! Damn Ordinaries. Treating us like we're less than human. Breeding us like cattle. Selling off our young to the highest bidder. They're the animals. Ordinaries are nothing but pigs, thoughtless, stupid, weak pigs. And I, for one, am getting sick of it. I just couldn't leave them there for god knows what purpose. At the mercy of those animals…. If I had my way, I'll gut every heartless one in my path. Every single, damn ordinary!"

It's a difficult thing for a member of the ruling social order to understand what it's like to be a discriminated minority, to comprehend the first moments that an individual realizes that he or she is seen as different, often less, than what society deems "normal." It would be uncomfortable for that privileged class to realize how those first moments are often accompanied by feelings of guilt, self-loathing, or embarrassment. Even more disturbing for them to realize that, more often than not, the first emotion is pure visceral anger.

But Max knew.

She remembered her own moment of insight, when she'd come to grips with the cold, hard truth that she'd never belong, not really, not unless she "passed."

She'd been ten at the time.

A group of kids, Max included, had been playing in a run down playground with rusty monkey bars and a lop-sided excuse for a see-saw. One of the kids, who she'd been kind of friends with, had slipped off the top of the bars, falling to the ground and crying out in pain.

Max could have saved him, but she'd been reminded recently of how her physical prowess attracted unwanted attention, needing to skip out of a small town for just such a feat. So she'd let him fall and stood idly by, even though she knew he had a snapped wrist and twisted ankle that should have been immediately immobilized.

She'd stood there until a mother came running up, brought by one of the other children.

"Shhh… baby. It's alright, momma's here," the woman had cooed to her child. The procedure drew a frown to Max's face as she watched, doubtful what good the woman's words would do when the child obviously needed medical attention.

Unbelievably, the child began to quiet as the woman continued to murmur nonsense and gathered the little boy's head into her lap. Whatever form of treatment this was, it seemed to be working. After long moments, the woman seemed to sense the pensive eyes upon her and looked up at Max, who was the only child who had not yet left to go home, the afternoon late.

"You should go home to your own mother," the woman cautioned, obviously slightly disconcerted by the very adult eyes looking back at her from a small face.

"I don't have one," Max replied, truthfully.

The woman didn't answer immediately, but seemed to relax as she placed Max with all the Pulse-orphans that had recently been created. "I'm sorry my dear, but I'm sure she loved you very much and is still watching over you from heaven."

Max didn't answer, but cocked her head to the side as she contemplated that response.

The woman was wrong, and if she knew the truth, Max was sure the tenderness in her voice would be replaced with disgust. No, Max reasoned, as she once again took in the image of the boy her age, protected by his mother's arm, she was different from them and would never have what they did.

It should have inspired feelings of envy and loss, and on some level it did. But more than anything else, it reminded Max what she wasn't - a "normal" child, who could be comforted by words such as _if_ her mother were still alive…

It was all she could do to run trembling from the play ground, away from the emptiness and the fury it inspired. Away from the desire to choke this mother, so the ailing child might have some inkling of what life was like for her.

The spark of rage had dulled with time, but still Max remembered it and knew what Troy was going through. His awakening was at hand, and she could only hope that he would eventually find others to accept him as Original Cindy had for her. In the meantime, she could be there for him.

She gripped his arm reassuringly, "I know how you feel."

"How can you even stand their company, Max?! Eleven years surrounded by nothing but the enemy would have had me going stir-crazy" Troy retorted, nonsensical in his state of rage.

"They're not all like that," she reasoned patiently.

"That so, Max?" Troy challenged, his voice suddenly cold. "Ever found one that doesn't want something from you once they know what you are?"

Without letting her answer, he continued, "Face it, we're two different species. We don't belong with them or to them, and sooner or later they're all going to realize it or we're going to make them realize it. _I'm_ going to make them realize it, and Madame X, Colonel Lydecker, and every other son of bitch who tortured us is going to rue the day they decided to splice DNA!"

The vehemence behind his words made Max examine him more closely. Troy had spent eleven more years under Manticore's sway then she. Eleven more years of repressing rage, taking orders, and doing his best to purge the emotions that refused to go away. The things he must have seen… and done, were frightening to think about. And Max realized it might take more than just a taste of freedom to purge the fire within.

Suddenly, she was afraid that this wasn't a phase that he was going to pass through, but a deeper, more lasting, interpretation of the world brought on by adult experience. It worried her.

"Troy…" Max began, unsure how to continue as she laid a hand against his face to gain his attention, while keeping one hand firmly around the child in her arms. "You haven't been on the outside long enough to take it all in. Give it time. Not everyone's like Manticore."

He didn't reply at first, but grabbed the hand against his cheek and pressed it closer. After a moment, Troy gave her a small smile of reassurance and drew her palm against his heart, before letting a warmer note creep into his voice, "As long as your there to show me, Max, I'll be patient enough to learn…"

It was _his_ pledge, and abruptly Max realized, it was also _her_ responsibility. One that she owed him and all the transgenics who'd left with her. The weight in Max's arms unexpectedly seemed much more difficult to carry, as Troy leaned into her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	20. Chapter 20

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Late, Fogle Towers…**

Many nights, Logan Cale worked deep into the darkness, driven by the relentless inner force that bade him go on when others rested. He had done so for most of his life, though the reasons behind that force had altered slightly over the years.

When he was young, he use to work late in order to reach his high standards of achievement – to meet deadlines, or edit stories, or surpass past accomplishments. He had always been a perfectionist, one of the best at whatever he'd done. It was easy for him; he was smarter than most, creative, and determined. His competition had always been internal. He was a man who thrived at doing things to the best of his ability, in doing them the right way, the best way. His success sowed the conflicting seeds of arrogance and guilt; a combination which had carried Logan far.

After the pulse, when the darkness had blocked out a 'right way' –when nothing existed but chaos and calamity, Logan's work pattern intensified, as the force behind his drive began to crystallize under a solid mission, a point of focus. Then, he'd labored late to appease the burning fire of passionate purpose that smoldered inside him. Stubborn, intelligent, and with an obsessive need to fix things and others – the smaller elements of his life reduced to cinders under his resolve. Even his marriage.

The conflagration of Logan's zeal pushed him harder, purified and solidified his steely determination until Eyes Only was hammered out of his imagination. A perfect, hard ideal that burned brightly and gave many hope. The problem with fires, even forbearing ones, is that they destroy whatever they touch, consume everything one has to give to it until there is nothing left.

And Logan's fire had burned until it had consumed so much of the man that little existed but the symbol. Then, Logan would work late to feed the fire and to staff off the cold that would come over him when he would walk away. His bed, despite the downy blankets, was cold; his apartment, despite the expensive objects, was empty. And while Logan was perfectly equipped to save lives and challenge corruption, he wasn't as capable of filling voids. And so he needed to hide from the night that hid him from everything but himself.

That was until he'd met Max. Max was the only person Logan had ever met who'd been able to follow him into the dark. To not only meet him there, but to see him better, both figuratively and literally, than anyone else before. They'd always seen each other best during the night, when pretense was tucked away, and inner identities merged with façades to create truth - at least part of the time.

Tonight wasn't so very different. Logan worked under the pressure of many of his former goals. He worked for justice, and beautiful ideas, and to shrug off the chilliness of the night. But he also worked for another far more mundane objective. To forget the deep, dark eyes, perfect cheek bones, and gorgeous smile of the woman he'd wanted above all else. He tried to let the rhythmic pounding of his fingers across the keyboard to distract him from the internal throb at her departure.

Logan wanted her to remember him. He wanted it so acutely that the ache was becoming a familiar companion. Her presence was a sometimes a temporary balm, but inevitably she left him.

"Any luck getting into the sector's surveillance system?" Max's voice asked from the darkness behind him, causing Logan to jump.

"Oh. Hey. I wasn't expecting you back here tonight," Logan covered, almost positive that she was hiding a small smirk as she entered into the light of the computer monitors.

Max shrugged, "Figured Troy could handle the mission on his own. Besides, I wanted to come back. To thank you."

Logan nodded, noting her odd mood, and wondering what the real reason was behind her late night return.

"No big deal. Just called in a few favors."

Again Max shrugged, as she took up a familiar spot in his office, leaning against the door frame, hip out. "You didn't have to," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I suppose not," Logan acknowledged, and when she didn't elaborate he felt compelled to continue, "Course then what type of crusader would I be?" he joked lightly.

One more time, a nod was exchanged between them, Max accepting his banter. But still the intensity didn't leave her eyes as she continued to watch him, as if measuring his person.

"Why do you? Help us, I mean?" Max quizzically asked, cocking her head to the side as if already pondering his response.

Logan grimaced slightly; he hated this question. The why question. The question that only a few people have ever gotten close enough to ask – and always he'd given theoretical, social obligation based answers. In other words, shades of truth.

"You've asked me this before, you know. Way back at the beginning of our relationship. And if I recall correctly, you didn't appreciate the social studies lecture."

For the second time that night a sense of déjà vu presented itself to Max. The lost memory remained out of reach, but there was no doubt in Max's mind that the conversation had happened. She knew from both her faith in Logan and in the worn, but empty patterns of memory that prickled in her head.

"That's not what I meant," Max offered, watching him carefully. Her conversation with Troy had shaken her more than she cared to admit, and for some unexamined reason, she come running to Logan to dispel the uncomfortable doubt accumulating in the pit of her stomach. "Why do you help us, the X5s?"

For a moment, a confused frown marred Logan's forehead before he answered, "Because you need it, Max. Super-soldiers or not, your siblings and unit are up against a powerful force that wants to…" he paused.

"Use us? Experiment on us? Enslave us? Breed us like a prize pig at a county fair?" Max didn't flinch under her words, and neither did Logan. Nor did he bother to deny the obvious.

"That about covers it," he acknowledged. "And since most people aren't aware of Manticore's project to protest, I figured the responsibility falls on those that know. I'd do the same for any group of people being persecuted the way you and yours are, Max."

The stark truth of his words stared back at Max from his seductive eyes. He was a beautiful man.

"We aren't human," she suddenly, aggressively, blurted out. She was challenging him with her own demons, forcing him to encounter what had often kept her company on the Space Needle at night.

"Being human has more to it than DNA, Max. It's about feelings and inner thoughts – the ability to be self-aware, and a desire to understand one's self and the world around. It's no more about genetic codes, than it is about race, gender, or religion," Logan stated firmly, assuredly. "Just because someone's DNA reads 100 percent human, doesn't mean they are, and vice versa. It's a state of mind, a right of passage, and yes, I think one could unequivocally say the X series represent a branch of humanity- even if it's a faster, smarter, better looking group of humans."

Max gave him a crooked smile for his indirect compliment. "Yeah. I guess."

Unbidden, her long-ago response to Original Cindy came filtering through her mind… _Mostly human_. It had been her covert plea for understanding, tolerance, and humor. And it was the most vulnerable she could ever remember being… though the score was still out on that. Original Cindy had delivered her verdict with typical aplomb, _"You are my boo…"_ My friend, my sister, my equal… It had been a big moment in Max's life, an important building block in her past.

Suddenly she felt much more assured. Troy would come around.

"So…" Max reset the tone and topic of their conversation, "What are you working on?"

She had to give him credit, he didn't skip a beat. Simply took her change in subject in stride.

"Hmm… just checking out more members of the NLU that keep crawling to the surface," Logan offered, turning back to his screen as he opened various files of information.

"Something new and different," she rejoined, enjoying the small wry expression he bestowed on her for her comment.

"Actually, an old friend popped up in my investigation. Any memory of old Eyes Only missions? Does the name Gil McManns ring any bells?" Logan asked.

Max walked around behind him to stare at the screen, leaning in slightly, over his shoulder to look. She wasn't touching him, one hand on the back of his chair, the other hanging at her side. A few errant hairs must have brushed again his cheek as she leaned in, but he didn't respond except for the slight tensing she couldn't help but notice.

"Name doesn't ring a bell. Any pictures?"

This close, the smell and heat that emulated from Logan was unmitigated. It flooded Max's senses and made her feel partially lightheaded. She should probably step back some, not needing the closeness to see the screen, but still she couldn't bring herself to. Logan had just given her something, something intangible and indescribable, but definitely real. He had given her permission to be both an X5 and Max, a soldier and a human, and she wanted to thank him, but didn't know how.

It culminated in the desire to be close to him, inside the circle of his body. That was all she wanted, but Max had underestimated the potency of his nearness. Close wasn't enough, she needed to touch him.

"Yeah," he replied, clearing his voice slightly. "Let me just…"

Carefully, Max slid her fingers over his, taking control of the mouse and silencing his words in a single gesture.

It was the most they'd touched in weeks, a fact of which Logan was acutely aware.

It shouldn't have been as erotic as it was, feeling her hand sliding up and over his own, lacing her fingers around his as she took control of the mouse. But it was, nearly unbearably so. Her skin was soft and fragrant, her hair soft and ticklish against the nape of his neck.

"Is this the file?" she murmured, as she angled the mouse a few centimeters over to the right side of the screen.

"Yeah," he managed to return, aware that he should probably let go of the controller and allow her to scroll at will. But he didn't, and she didn't seem to mind.

In painful surge of desire, he was reminded what her cherry lip gloss tasted like, and he closed his eyes to complete the fantasy. Had he ever wanted someone as much as he wanted her? Logan highly doubted it, as he fingered the treasured edge of a handful of memories.

This late at night, with her so close, the recollection nearly overpowered Logan's considerable will as he contemplated doing something rash. So lost was he, it took him a minute to register that Max wasn't responding to his thoughts when she sharply exclaimed.

"Logan?!"

"What?" he responded worriedly, perhaps a heartbeat too fast if Max had been paying attention.

However, all of her energy was focused forward, on the picture of the man on the screen.

"That man, Logan? Is that Gil McMann?"

"Yep. The very one, responsible for helping get Cale industries into the murder business, and suspected of turning my uncle's deadly little project against him," Logan responded, this time steadily as he slipped his fingers out from under Max's and swiveled his chair slightly so he could see her face. Only then did he realize that something was off. Max's face look stricken as dazed eyes suddenly became concentrated in thought.

"I remember that."

"Just now?" Logan inquired, suddenly understanding her change in attitude.

"Yeah." Max murmured thoughtfully. "Logan? How often did I help you out with these missions?"

"How much do you want to know, Max?" Logan asked cautiously.

Taking in Logan's suddenly wary demeanor, Max felt the pulse of excitement drumming through her. If Logan's alter ego had actually been the foundation of their relationship than that could mean she knew what she had used to the block her memory, their Eyes Only missions.

Just as her first reservoir would require Original Cindy's help to breach, using Logan's files as triggers would nearly ensure that she needed to meet up with him before she could unlock the next stage. Something, she'd never get close enough to do if Logan didn't believe she could be trusted. It was a safety valve on her recall.

"Summarize it," she commanded.

"You helped me often, serving as my legs, my eyes, my… woman power, on many of the hacks I accomplished over the past year," Logan offered immediately, if a bit hesitantly. "There wasn't much I hid from you Max."

"At least as far as Eyes Only went," he amended.

"Hard to believe I did that with no compensation," Max answered suspiciously, previously unconsidered thoughts flying through her head. Was Logan her boss? A rich guy who saw her as muscle for hire? She a dutiful employee who got dinner when she delivered? The notion inexplicably angered her.

"Not exactly compensation, Max," Logan responded. Seeing her frown, he pressed forward. "More like a barter system. At first anyway. You helped with Eyes Only; I looked for your siblings. Quid Pro Quo."

The last words sent Max spiraling back to another time, but the same space.

_Logan was seated in the office area of the penthouse as her own attitude drenched words filled the air._

"_Blowing up my pager, better be major."_

_Lifting his head to look at her, he stated: "You were in an odd mood last night."_

_The response threw her and Max felt the sarcastic attitude rising as a defense: "You got me over here to talk about my moods?"_

"_No. Not exactly."_

_There was an undercurrent of playfulness behind Logan's mannerism. The hint of a star-pupil pleased that he knew something the teacher didn't. But Max wasted no time on this analysis as her multi-tasking brain immediately replied:_

"_Then what? I have a job."_

"_Quid Pro Quo."_

_You found something on Zack?" she asked, excitement flooding her._

"_No. Something else…"_

_XXX_

"Max?" Logan worriedly asked, drawing her attention back to the present.

Focusing on the concerned face of the man beside her, Max hastened to let him know what she was thinking. "Logan, I may have used our Eyes Only events as a way of blocking off my memories. A way to make sure that Manticore wouldn't be able to access more crucial information."

There was a slight hesitation on Logan's part, but not for the reason Max assumed. He wasn't anxious to protect his files from her, he was anxious to protect her from what they contained. Max's memory loss was a terrible burden and a never lessening source of pain, but it was also the blank canvass for starting over that Logan had wished for from time to time. Once she learned about their arrangement, and the way it came about, there would be no going back, no erasing all the missteps he made.

Still, the hesitation was little less than unnatural clenching of his jaw, before he quickly turned back to the screen and entered a number of codes into the password function. A chronological list of investigations popped up, all coded with seemingly harmless titles, but actually containing all the information he'd collected on every organization, individual, or group he'd ever brought down.

Standing, Logan offered the computer chair to her. "It's all there, Max. Starting from the most recent hacks back. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

He hadn't yet left the office space when Max's voice stopped him.

"You trust me with this?" Max asked gently, aware of the extreme nature of this gesture. A careless gesture, a commanding voice whispered in her ear; even as her heart tugged painfully at this powerful man's faith in her.

"I trust you, Max." Logan curtly replied before giving her privacy with his most valuable possession.

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**France…**

"So I was thinking, we should stop at a little bistro around the corner. I happened to know the guy who owns it. Gave him some business on a few missions I had over the years. I don't like to brag, but I do know a little something about Parie…'" Alec attempted to banter, trying to get the beautiful girl at his side to engage in a conversation.

As the passed the shop with no signal that the woman had heard him, Alec tried again.

"Oookay… no bistro. How about we check out this café I know? It's a bit of walk, but we are in Paris and it's almost springtime. Isn't there a song about that or something?" he nudged the figure beside him, giving what many would consider a charming smile.

"Is this some new strategy that taught you at Manticore after we left… babble at your ally until they crack and take out the target for you," Coreen snapped, never relaxing her vigilance as she checked from left to right.

"Hey. I'm just saying… " Alec attempted to temporize.

"Well don't," Coreen bite out, still refusing to even look at him.

"So what's with you? Some bitch gene that activated when you left Manticore?" Alec finally retorted, his temper baited beyond control. "I know Max had the same symptoms, but at least she did a better job of controlling it."

Coreen paused in her walked and turned to face him, her eyes blazing.

"I know this may be difficult for someone like you to understand, but genetics can't be blamed for everything. Sometimes it's just a choice." She condescendingly spat back.

"Choice, huh? Well if I had the _choice_ I certainly wouldn't waste my freedom on being a huge…"

Alec never got a chance to finish as Coreen swept behind him, slapping her hand over his mouth and dragging him to a small alleyway.

"Shhh!" she hissed in his ear. "I see our target."

The both watched silently, neither totally unaware of the other's proximity, as a debonair man in his late 50s walked down the street.

According to Correen's directives, they had been searching the city for a man she knew to be an undercover American agent, a member of the military who she'd had cause to deal with a few times while in Europe. He wasn't exactly a friend. Although they'd worked together on a few occasions, Coreen lending a hand in exchange for money, their last interaction hadn't gone well. Somehow, Agent Valarie, had identified her as an X5.

In fairness, he hadn't tried to betray her, but told Coreen to scatter, that if he saw her again, he would turn her in. That was the last she'd seen of him for quite some time. However, given the circumstances, she'd determined he was their best source of intel, the most likely candidate for having a fix on the NLU's headquarters. As long as she didn't get caught by him in the meantime.

Since she'd arrive in France a few weeks ago she'd been attempting to track him, with Alec having joined the search a few days ago. It was the other X5 who'd picked up on the scent and this was their first contact, more a product of luck than skill. Valarie was a difficult man to find.

As they waited a few heartbeats for him to be out of normal human range, Alec began murmuring against her hand, a sheen of saliva coating her palm. With a huff of disgust, she pushed him away from her, glaring at him all the while.

A small smile of satisfaction emerged at his own antics as Alec watched the strikingly beautiful X5 wipe her palm against her jeans. In the next breath, however, he was all business.

"That's Valarie?" he pressed.

"In the flesh."

"That's quite an accomplishment, given the last time I saw him he was being blown to smithereens by my unit. Oh, and his name wasn't Valarie, it was Valjean."

A look of comprehension and shock covered Coreen's face as she linked the name to the man who had given Max the disk on the NLU. Without another word the two took off on their attempt to track the man and capture him for questioning, the mission suddenly much more important.

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**Fogle Towers…**

The Eyes Only missions were indeed the memory triggers serving as a choke point in Max's recovery. More than just a blockade, they felt, as Max caught on to the pattern, like the Great Wall of China – tightly bundled memories, needing to be released in a specific order that would defend her mind against any Manticore psy ops' invasion.

The triggers were Logan's cable hacks, starting from the most recent back – the Quid Pro Quo memory the only outlier, designed to clue her in to her means of forgetting.

Methodically, Max plowed through the different recollections, finding lots of images of her kicking ass and taking on scum bags to assist Logan in his mission. For the most part, the memories were formal, centering on Logan's explanations of the situation at hand and her own efforts to gain whatever information he needed. But every once in a while, slipped amidst the formal vernacular of their exchanges, were small signs of their covert friendship and connection. It was an interesting activity, watching those small signals shorten or disappear as they moved backwards in their partnership. Smiles and jokes becoming rarer, subtext filled exchanges growing in sarcasm, and simple comments hitting against heightened defensiveness.

Seen like this, the difference was striking. They'd come a long way in just a year.

However, it wasn't any of the tense situations, dangerous missions, or even sparks of understanding that stood out in Max's mind as she slowly remember the various events. What echoed throughout Max's consciousness with booming forcefulness was the series of gun shots she witnessed from her place of work. Hover drone footage that shocked and titillated those surrounding her, but in no way registered as the brutal hit of the man who was their social savior.

That was only Max's realization, as she saw before her something she knew she could have prevented. Something she was asked to prevent only the day before, by a man who intrigued and infuriated her – even as he got to her more than anyone had since leaving Manticore.

The same man who would later coerce her into helping him by dangling her siblings in front of her as bait. Whose trials and tribulations she'd watch as he struggled with his new reality –all the while knowing she could have prevented it.

Max didn't need her internal dialogue to supply what part of their early relationship had been based on… guilt. Guilt over what she should have done, but didn't.

Hard on the heels of these memories was one more, brought on by a miscellaneous file labeled Dr. Vertes. Logan's rise from her blood and his subsequent fall when that same blood had failed him, had been too incompatible with his wholly human DNA to sustain the changes that had made him so happy. It left Max's head reeling, even as her heart thumped in pain and anger.

One thing was sure. They weren't just casual acquaintances. It was obvious to her that Max had designed her memory loss to be rectified in a way that would connect her to Logan at the very minute she wanted to do nothing but run. She was trapped by her memories through her own conscious choice; though why she had designed it this way, she had no clue.

It took her a good ten minutes to pull herself together enough to walk into the kitchen with a seemingly indifferent face on, ready to engage the man who'd made her entire world go head over heels.

She might not remember everything just yet, but she knew enough to know she was going to kick his ass.

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_Thanks to Lisa for finding time to beta this._


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Restructuring the storyline (a huge thanks to Lisa for reading this twice), Christmas, and guilt over not finishing my secret santa fic (it will be finished!) had put this on hold. However, this and the next chapter have been completed, if you're still reading.**

**As always, thanks for the wonderful reviews! I mean it, they're wonderful.**

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**Manticore…**

Had the residents of Manticore ever been taught about such things, they could have found much about their childhood home to equate with the religious construction of hell. Torture chambers, death, punishment, monsters in the basement, it was certainly no wonder that as children the X5s had created their own mythology which loosely corresponded with the Judeo-Christian place of punishment. Like so many societies before them, the X5's good place had been high, the bad place, low. Reality consisted of things they didn't want to do, and disobedience led to pain. Mercy was embodied by an intangible entity and arbitrary rituals were constructed to access it.

Of course there was one major difference, Brin thought. Instead of fire, their hell had been cold. Cold and sterile.

It was only with a small amount of satisfaction that Brin recognized her new-found ability to reflect on her past. Memories once thought burned away had come back to her in the last few weeks. It would never be the same, but at least Brin could remember her family now. Not to mention make the symbolic connection between Manticore and hell – a thought that would have brought a wry smile to her face if she hadn't been strapped to a chair in psyops as she was being prepped for another round of invasive coercion techniques. But she was.

From the corner of her eye, Brin caught sight of a female shoe entering the room accompanied by the mundane click-clack of sole to flooring.

So Lucifer herself had come to see the procedure, Brin thought grimly. Not a big surprise. If she ever got out of here, Brin would be sure to write a short story where the devil was a steely-eyed petite blond woman who enjoyed the taste of blood. It would be one more addition to what she now remembered had been an obsessive hobby.

To the click of the heels, a voice was added: "Is she ready to go?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered a forgettable voice, as the sound of whirling machines sprang to life.

Brin braced herself for the inevitable shock wave of pain that was sure to quickly follow, well aware that nothing would break her.

No matter how many times they asked her, the story would remain the same.

"_What happened?"_

"_I was preparing my bedding when a dull thump to my neck made me lose consciousness."_

"_What then?"_

"_I came to in the barracks, chained down. I proceeded to find a way to release myself."_

The questions would proceed as such until they invariably degenerated into the usual manipulation.

"_Where are they?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Are you working with them?"_

"_No."_

"_You're lying."_

"_I'm not."_

Followed by pain.

It would be boring if it didn't hurt so much. Laughable in its futility. That was the last thought Brin had for quite some time as Manticore's team went to work on her.

XXX

Since alpha team's escape, Manticore had devolved into a kind of chaotic whirl of anarchy and mayhem. Although the defection of the X5s had certainly been a catalyst, other troubles had piled up from previously unsuspected places to plague the director.

The health of many of the X7s had made an expedited turn for the worst that left nearly all of them in the medical wing and the doctors up in arms. The previously docile X6s had refused any further participation in the reproductive project, only pure force was now capable of garnering their involvement. The nursery wing of the base had been compromised when two infants had been stolen by X5s from beta team, who had disappeared around the time of Alpha team. Whether or not the two groups had been in conclusion remained uncertain. And of course, there was the ever present lack of funding and the oversight committee which was increasingly uncomfortable with what they had unleashed in this genetics project.

It was enough to fuel the constant headaches and lack of sleep that had been afflicting Renfro since the X5s escaped. If she hadn't had a greater purpose in mind, she would even have considered resigning – a thought Donald Lydecker would surely have found amusing. Unfortunately for her, that wasn't an option, not with so much at stake. The organization needed these soldiers to maintain order and to inflict fear of those who resisted their domination. They were essential to the next stage of the plan, and, therefore getting Manticore back under control had become a top priority with the NLU. Updates had gone from irregular to consistent. One more demand on her attention.

Dimly, Renfro heard the small grunts and moans of pain from the X5 in the chair.

X734's loyalty had never been in question. The X5 had been found incapacitated and shackled to a pipe in her dormitory after the escape had been discovered. Obviously, the others had never trusted the reindoctrinated X5 who had gone through cutting-edge psychological manipulation, and she had been excluded from what Renfro saw as a misguided bid for freedom.

734's torture was, therefore, only a formality, something to report back to the commission so Renfro could say that something was being done. As expected, 734 had shed no light on the escape and would soon return to active duty. Once she'd shed enough blood for those in charge, that was.

The thought brought a small sardonic smile to her face before Renfro returned to her current problems.

What disrupted her most was that Renfro had no idea how so many perfect soldiers had gone from complete obedience to total rebellion in so short a time. And worse still, she had no way of knowing how to stop the continued degeneration of Manticore affairs. For a woman who was always in control, it was a disorienting feeling.

With a gentleness that struck the technicians in the room as grotesque, the director leaned in and stroked the hair from Brin's forehead, her enjoyment at the X5s pain apparent.

Renfro didn't notice their shudders, but gave the X5 a small reptilian smile as she contemplated her next move.

The conclusion was obvious. Renfro recognized that the time for self-containment and flying under the radar had passed. It was time to make the call and bring the South African team.

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**Washington, D.C.**

Derek, formerly known as X5 302, rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. There was nothing quite like manipulating the psychological faculties of those surrounding him. He enjoyed the process of getting people to do the exact opposite of what they'd originally intended.

And if he said so himself, this latest game had been impressively played.

It had all started about thirty minutes ago. Chairwoman Purdue's husband, who happened to be a high ranking military general, had come barging into the office. Furious, at what he perceived to be his wife's infidelity, when – as Derek soon learned – the woman had murmured the X5's name during a love making session with her husband.

Allowing himself to shudder in disgust now that all observers were gone, Derek remembered the way he'd at first insinuated that his own sexual preferences tended to lean the other way – away from Chairwoman Purdue. Not a total lie, given that he'd rather sleep with just about anyone but the morally didactic, narrow-minded, middle-aged hypocrite, who had a slightly nasal draw to her voice.

But of course, that wasn't what he said to the general.

The insinuation had done exactly what he wanted it to, and caused the general to calm down enough to listen. Soon, Derek had begun to imply conquests of younger, attractive females to the lascivious general, painting a now sexually-ambiguous figure.

A few well-placed comments about his own desires to get out of the political arena and into the more active branch of the military, as well as a few casually dropped hints that the general "inferred" were passes made by his wife to the handsome young man, and Derek had been offered a job under the general's command. Not bad at all, and accomplished with a degree of irony that made him laugh.

Sure the chairwoman would throw a fit, but Derek was sure once she got a good look at his recommended replacement – Krit - and the woman would be manage to repress her disappointment.

Proud of what he accomplished, he was almost looking forward to his status update with Lydecker scheduled for later that day.

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**Fogle Towers… **

With a great deal of vigor, Logan chopped the vegetables in front of him. That energy of his meal preparation was the only sign that he was nervous. His face remaining impassive as Max poked and prodded among his private files, remembering god knew what about their relationship.

Besides the unknown reaction she would have to their professional history, there was also the matter of certain files contained on his hard drive that he wasn't willing to share with her just yet. Things that she would have every right to be angry at him for looking into without her permission. They weren't contained within the files he'd opened, but still, if Max commanded a catalog of his recent searches, she'd be sure to come across the information. And that was one conversation Logan wasn't ready to have. Not yet anyway.

That was what Logan was considering as Max suddenly appeared in the kitchen, having approached with her usual stealth so that her presence seem more like the materialization of an apparition rather than the actions of a regular woman. It was one of the things that Logan both loved and dreaded about her, fascinated by her grace and yet thrown off by the positions it often put him in.

She didn't say anything, but approached him warily, with eyes never wavering from his form as if worried he would suddenly attempt to escape. She needn't have worried, Logan had stopped trying to outrun her the moment her lips touched his the day of their anniversary. It was one race he knew he'd never win.

"You know?" she questioned, her face slightly accusatory.

Logan swallowed, sure that she'd found it, and unsure of how to proceed. So he stalled. "Know what?"

Max glared at him, but answered anyway. "The disk. The one I took from Manticore. About us, the X5s, about Manticore, about ways to cure people from research conducted on children."

That was all? Logan couldn't help but let out a slight sigh of relief, the disk wasn't a big deal.

"Of course, I told you weeks ago that's how we found you. How we knew you were still alive."

Puzzled, Logan watched as Max continued to glower at him, obviously ticked off with some action of his.

"Max?"

Still she didn't answer.

"What do you remember, Max?" Logan prodded, sure that her anger had some legitimate cause.

"Working for you. Being manipulated to work for you."

Logan grimaced at that definition of the events, aware that was one possible interpretation.

"Letting you get shot."

Eyes narrowing in surprise, Logan took in Max's defiant posture.

"It wasn't your fault, Max."

"You don't think I know that?!" she spat, too quickly, too irritated. And Logan knew he'd hit the source of her current mood.

"My call. My plan. My fault, Max. No one else's. Well… except for maybe Bruno Anselmo's" Logan stated firmly, attempting to inject a slight bit of levity into the conversation with his last statement.

"Dammit, Logan. You told me staying out of that chair meant more to you than anything!" Max countered, still irrationally angry.

So, she remembered the Vertes situation, Logan thought. That complicated things.

"It's not that simple anymore, Max. I…"

"You have a means of getting out now Logan. And what have you done to achieve it? I checked you entries. You've only accessed the damn thing twice. What the hell? Are you so disgusted by Manticore's prodigy that you can't bring yourself to accept their help?!"

"More like too busy trying to save their collective asses," Logan countered, his own annoyance rising at her accusatory tone.

"Well by all means, don't let the transgenics keep you from your precious cure," Max snapped.

He didn't understand her rage or her accusations, but Logan sure as hell wasn't going to back down from them. Moving to stand toe to toe with her, Logan bit back, "And where exactly, Max, do you get the evidence to suggest I'd be willing to do that? What aspect of our relationship, of which your memory seems spotty and best and half-assed to be more accurate, gives you the right?"

He saw the blink of uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation, and knew this wasn't about him reneging on his promises or secretly despising her kind, but about a more internal demon that she had no other way of fighting except overtly. How long had it taken him to learn that about her, he wondered. Probably until the situation with Ben.

"I might not remember that much about the past Logan, but let me tell you what I know about the future. I know you're going to contact Mr. Howard Bethel, the guy who Manticore performed their little experimentation on, and see if he's still up and about. I know you're going to call Sam Carr and give him the information provided so conveniently by the good doctors of my youth. And I know damn well you're going to be walking if there's any chance those quacks were right. Got that?!"

She hadn't backed off, but then Logan hadn't expected her to. Instead, she turned the conversation. Directing it at fixing the symptom rather than the source of her inner angst.

"Yeah, and why don't I just call the NLU and ask if they can postpone they efforts to take over Manticore technology while I attend to my legs, Max. Think they'll comply?"

"Like you being laid up for a few weeks is really going to make all that much difference, Logan. As long as you brains and your fingers work, I think my siblings and I will be able to take over the heavy lifting. Unless you think our genetically enhanced bodies can't handle it?"

Logan simmered, knowing he was trapped by her logic.

He hadn't lied; he'd been hesitating to look into the procedure until after they dealt with the situation at hand or that's what he told himself. However, if he were honest with himself, it was more like he was waiting for Max to regain her memory. Part of him still unwilling to fight for her affection from the vulnerable position that seeking a cure would potentially put him in. At least now he was assured he could use the exo-skeleton.

Still, if he had any chance of getting Max to feel for him again, Logan knew he'd have to appease her anger now. So taking in a deep breath, he curtly replied. "Fine. I'll look up his number tomorrow."

"Or, you can call him today," Max countered, slapping a piece of paper with a number on it down on the kitchen island.

Getting a few millimeters closer to her, Logan leaned in to retort, "After dinner."

Walking back to his cutting board, Logan left a fuming Max, who had little choice but to defer to his wishes.

Logan would seek treatment; Max would stay for dinner. Quid Pro Quo.

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**France…**

"Here." Alec stated, offering a steaming cup of black coffee to Coreen, who been on watch for the past five hours in the light, cold drizzle of rain.

Barely looking at him, she murmured a grudging, "Thanks."

Shaking his head slightly at the less than enthusiastic response, Alec positioned himself slightly behind her, so he too could look up at the hotel window that they were monitoring.

Leaning in to her ear, he asked, "So, you want to talk about it? Or are we just gonna stand here in silence for the next few hours."

"Talk about what?" she replied nonchalantly, sniffing the contents of the cup more appreciatively now that she holding it.

"Why you hate me."

Alec gave off a small chuckle as he felt her stiffen beside him.

For all the rancor she displayed toward him, Alec had learned that Coreen wasn't usually this formal or confrontational. Every interaction he'd seen between her and the people that knew her contradicted the front she showed toward him. At every old haunt, and there were many, was filled with old friends who welcomed her with hugs and warm words. Every person who recognized her, had an update on someone who'd she'd helped, or a thank you of their own. And every question she asked was met with a desire to answer her as thoroughly as possible.

Alec had realized pretty early on that whatever Coreen was, it wasn't the ice princess that had decided to portray to him. An iciness that despite her determination to show no human of herself, melted with every personal interaction as she couldn't help but bestow a kind word of concern and a small joke of familiarity with those she met.

No, the ice queen was all his, and the question of why intrigued Alec, though he didn't know why he cared. There were plenty of other woman who warmed to his handsome face instantaneously. So why, he asked himself was he here bringing coffee during his off hours to the only woman he seemed determined to dislike him?

"I don't…" Coreen paused, unwilling to continue with the lie. "You remind me of stuff I hate."

"So what? That a reason to shoot down a fellow's every attempt at civility?" Alec bantered, able to watch her eyes roll in amusement despite the dark.

"No… it's more complicated than that," Coreen demurred.

"Ain't it always," Alec replied, his voice still permeated with good humored baiting. "Still… describe it to me."

Coreen paused, taking in a great draught of air before attempting to articulate her feelings. Something she wished Jondy was here to do for her. However, she never got the chance. Before she could begin, the lights went out in the hotel room above.

It was their signal to act.

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**Space Needle…**

Max sat on top of her high place staring down at the city below and letting the cool Seattle mist dust her with water droplets.

It had been a long day, and an even longer night.

In the space of twenty-four hours she'd been reunited with Troy, met Manticore's youngest progeny, regained a key piece of her memory, and shared a late night culinary miracle with a man with whom she shared an extraordinarily complex relationship.

It should have left her feeling satisfied, perhaps even pleased. But, looking out over the skyline, Max felt nothing but waves of confusion whipping her from every angle. Confusion over where she'd been and where she was headed.

Because despite all the progress, Max knew there were still important decisions to be made. Decisions that would mean life and death to some and would have unforeseen consequences for others.

And when things like that happened, Max knew, someone was bound to get hurt…

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	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: While I have your attention (or annoyance at the delay) I wanted to mention that this story leaves the platonic realm, eventually, and moves into more… explicit, description. If that offends you, then may I suggest not continuing on. With that said, there is nothing above pg-13 in this chapter. I just wanted to mention it now because I tend to find it annoying when a story gives up the surprise by giving a warning at the beginning of the chapter (something I have done in previous stories). Just know that from here on out I reserve the right to explore the sexual. **

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**Seattle, two weeks later…**

Much had gone down since Max had regained a larger portion of her memory. More individuals had been linked to the NLU, Derek had penetrated the upper level of the military, Troy had stopped by twice on flimsy mission related excuses, and Logan had begun a regiment of intense physical therapy after a new round of blood transfusions.

However, despite these important developments, Max's thoughts were primarily occupied with the past. The falling of Max's final firewall had unleashed a flurry of movement. The strings that held her memory together were loosened, and thoughts that were once held tightly back began to slip forward at the slightest provocation. Memories appeared without triggers, at the barest hint of resemblances, and occurred without a logical order, prompted by the events of her random life.

And yet, despite the change, things remained stubbornly beyond reach, things that should have been there weren't. Sometimes when Max had a memory it felt oddly similar to watching a movie, her perspective weirdly detached. These pseudo-films would pop up at the most unusual of times and locations, removing Max's sense of control and leaving her emotions raw and on edge.

Her latest memory had been particularly infuriating. It had come when she wasn't looking for it. She had been on a run delivering a package to a wealthy neighborhood in Sector 9. As the door to the well-maintained apartment opened, Max heard the first stirring of notes escape from the confines of the living-space. Soon the melody began to pour forth from her memory, swelling around her as the sight in front of her changed.

She was no longer standing in front of the apartment, but sitting in a car listening to a classical piece of music…

"_What are we listening to?" she had asked the man beside her._

"_Sibellius." Logan answered from the driver's seat._

"_It's sad." Max had stated._

"_Yeah."_

Max had watched the memory unfold, the conversation in the car obviously laced with a subtext that she could no longer read. Logan's, Zack's, and her own words filled her ears, but what she had been feeling at this obvious good-bye, the contemporary Max had no idea.

It, therefore, came as a shock to her when she had suddenly returned to the car, reaching in and smashing Logan's lips to her own. She could tell that the kiss had been desperate on both sides – motivated by some powerful force. She could see the look of unrestrained intensity in his eyes as he'd pulled away, and the final controlled command "Go", but had no notion of what her own expression must have been.

It left her disoriented when she had suddenly come to, looking at the annoyed eyes of a middle-aged woman who was waiting for the package. It had taken her soldier's discipline to finish her run and return to Jam Pony, her mind reeling with the event. It had taken her a while to figure out where the memory went in line of succession. She finally concluded it must have come after the confrontation with Lydecker that had revealed her face and before that incident with Bronck that she had saved Logan from. She still didn't know what motivated her to return from the trip to Canada, to abandon Zack and head back into enemy territory, only a quick flash of Logan's sleeping form in a hospital bed greeted her most ardent attempts at probing. That in turn had raised more memories than answers.

Answers that she was aiming to find out.

Jumping onto her motorcycle and revving the engine to express of her jumbled emotions, Max set a course for Fogle Towers.

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**France…**

With determined strides Coreen used the harness secured to the exposed pipe to heave herself up the outer wall of the old building. It was something she'd done many times, and yet she was careful, not risking further noise than was necessary by rushing.

Unfortunately, her companion didn't share her caution. On the parallel pipe, two feet away, Alec began to pull himself up with great speed, stopping just long enough to give her an incorrigible smirk that let her know he was challenging her to race.

She rolled her eyes in response, and attempted to remain focused on her own scrupulous ascent rather than Alec's juvenile behavior. An extra ten years at Manticore and the guy was playing games on a mission. Briefly, she wondered what Lydecker would say.

Coreen's control to go slow last only for a few moments as Alec's boot heels came into focus and she recognized just how far behind she was. No one beat her at scaling heights. That was her specialty.

Faster now, she put one hand over the other, lifting her body weight and using her leg strength to her best advantage. Soon she was even with him, giving her own dare with a raised eyebrow. Alec's smirk vanished and the two remained neck and neck until they both hurdled themselves onto the roof simultaneously.

"I'll race you down…" Alec began breathlessly, a genuine smile on his face, only to be stopped by soft "Shh…"

"Didn't they teach your class anything about stealth?" Coreen whispered in exasperation, quickly moving away from him and scaling over the inclined roof and down the back end of it.

A quiet "Kill joy," could be hear wafting on the air behind her.

As they hooked their ropes onto the roof and began to lower themselves down in front of the dark window they'd been watching, Coreen ignored Alec's frown. She didn't want to focus on the recalcitrant X5 right now, only the mission at hand.

Silently, and working in tandem, they jimmied the frame open. Using hand signals, Alec gestured that he would go in and Coreen should stay behind and wait for his signal. Wordless she rejected. Again he made an adamant signal that she should hold back, and again she rejected it.

With a small shrug, Alec gave in entering first; followed quickly by Coreen.

It took a few moments for their night sensitive eyes to adjust to the completely dark interior of the bedroom. But it was long enough for the safety to be switched off from the gun pointed directly at them. The gestured was followed immediately by the sounds of rich, sophisticated voice asking: "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this late night visit?"

XXXXX

**Seattle, Sector 3…**

"But where is he? I mean, I find this information on drug lords running rings around local authorities and there isn't a word about it. Not from him, not on the informant net," Matt Sung let out a huff of frustration. "First off, do you know if he's okay?"

Logan stared into the eyes of the sector cop who had helped him bust many a low-life. Sung had risked his position, his life, and the life of his family many times in the name of the cause, and it was difficult now not to let him in on what was going on. On one level it was wrong. But on a very real, practical level, Logan knew it was the right thing to do.

"Here's what I know. Apparently, Eyes Only is working on something big, bigger than Sonrisa and Mayor Steckler. Bigger than all the drug lords combined. He won't let me in on the details. Only the people at the very top have access. But, he's safe – for now."

Matt Sung took in the earnest face of the man before him and once again wondered how far up the ladder Logan was. He was definitely hiding things.

Still, Matt trusted Logan implicitly, if he said Eyes Only was okay he'd trust him for now.

"Anything I can do?"

"You can sit tight for now, Matt. Sit tight and be patient."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**France….**

"I'm terribly sorry about your head," Valjean apologized to Alec.

The male X5 was sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel filled with ice pressed to his head and an annoyed look on his face.

"No problem. Nothing like getting the butt of a gun in your face to wake you up," he sardonically replied, secretly admiring the man's quick reactions.

Coreen chuckled lightly before turning back to the issue at hand. "So you staged your own death because you knew Manticore was closing in?"

"Yes. After I learned that the NLU had managed to get someone into the upper command, I knew it would be inevitable. I'm afraid I've made myself quite the target. As the only intelligence agent with any working knowledge of the organization I'm a fairly high priority. When I met up with Clarissa, I knew the clock was ticking. I admit, however, that they decision to give her the disk was not quite so spectacularly planned. It was only a shot in the dark, as you say. I certainly didn't expect it to create an interdepartmental rebellion among the X5s. Nor to cause a reunion between those like yourself, Coreen, and those that never made it out."

"Yeah, quite the happy get-together," Alec mocked, yearning him a look of reprimand from his pretty companion.

"Still," Valjean pressed. "This is the first drop of positive news I've heard during quite a sea of troubles. My informant on the inside was able to get me quite a bit of recon before his untimely demise, and everything I learned was… troublesome."

"What exactly do they want? What's their objective?" Coreen asked.

Valjean waited for a minute before answering, making sure he had her absolute attention.

"Something, my dear, that only a few have had the ambition to make a real reach for, and even fewer have gotten close to. Always with immense human causalities. Napoleon, Hitler, Genghis Khan."

"What, world dominance?" Alec joked, needing to break up the tension.

Valjean didn't answer them at first, but continued to watch their growing discomfort before replying.

"Their mission statement does say one culture, one society, does it not?"

"There hasn't been any military action for years," Alec protested.

"Their weapons have become more sophisticated. Their potential warriors, better. They don't need military action; they've invaded the highest posts of the world's leading countries."

"So even if we remove the threat to Manticore…" Coreen began.

"It would hardly eliminate the extent of the danger," Valjean confirmed.

"So who do we need to kill?" Alec broke in brashly, anxious to remove the sense of depressive doom that Valjean seem determined to invoke.

The older man let out a small chuckle at the impatient attitude of the younger, but sobered quickly before responding. "I'm afraid we fight a hydra, not a titan."

"No head? No general? No evil mastermind?" Alec pressed, sarcasm permeating his tone.

"Well there was one, but he's long since dead. A philosopher, who's musing have been taken hopeless out of context," Valjean responded. "I have spent the last seven years gathering information on this organization, or cult as I prefer to think of them. Unlike many others, they are smart, well ordered, methodical, and patient. They also have access to many resources, and have many followers. They are a formidable foe."

Silence settled over the two X5s as they considered what Valjean had just told them. Given the context he had just provided them, the mission formulated by Logan and Lydecker seemed insignificant and doomed to failure. America was but a small player in this much larger scene.

"So are you suggesting we give up?" Coreen angrily asked. Something about her voice smelled of desperation, a desperation Alec wasn't immune to, but from which his life at Manticore had provided a better fortification. He had lived through despair.

Discreetly, he moved closer to Coreen, putting his palm against her lower back – hidden by their bodies from Valjean's knowing eyes. She didn't respond to the gesture, but Alec felt the tension in her body lessen slightly as they both watched the undercover American agent.

"No. I'm suggesting you realize what you're up against and realize that removing the threat to Manticore – while important – is not enough to end the threat to the X5s. Something bigger must be done. Something to remove the Neo-Luddite Underground's most effective weapon. Anonymity."

Again Valjean paused to let his words sink in. It was a character trait Alec found annoying, this unfortunate need for gravitas. He'd much rather Valjean just spit it out so they could get to solving the problem.

"It is only after we remove their cover of secrecy that we can hope to gain the support of other countries, countries with the resources and the will to fight."

Coreen and Alec exchanged a meaningful glance, well aware that Logan's plan would do just what Valjean was asking. The question, however, was how much to trust this man who'd been so intertwined with the NLU, especially when his cover had been compromised.

One small shake of the head and two nods later, Coreen stepped forward.

"Let's say that the scope of our mission was slightly larger," she began.

"How much larger?" Valjean asked, his eyes alight with interest at what they seemed to be implying.

"U. S emancipation from NLU large," Alec responded, earning him a scowl from Coreen who was annoyed at his interference.

Valjean frowned. "A bit overreaching don't you think?"

"We don't." Coreen replied calmly.

Any other people and Valjean would have laughed at their presumption. Laughed and sent them on their way. But these were X5s, and one simply didn't laugh at the plans of an X5.

"How?" he questioned instead.

"A mass-scale public interest campaign concerning the organization and participants," Coreen responded simply.

"The logistics alone of reaching…" he began.

"Taken care of."

He paused. "The names…" he started again.

"Found."

"Verified?" he asked, though he didn't particularly care about potential of accusing innocent people. He was more interested in learning the practices of those he was dealing with.

"In progress."

Again he stopped to think. Sure there were holes in what he'd learned, but he had no doubt that if someone had managed to get the X5s aboard that they were good. It was the first glimmer of a battle plan that he'd heard in years. He just had one major question.

"Who's in charge?"

"Not important." Coreen replied, no expression on her face. Alec too remained impassive.

"Someone from Manticore?" he pressed, thinking over the various members privy to the experiments.

"No."

"Government?"

"No. And beyond that I'm not responding. You'll learn soon enough. Suffice it to say that for now anonymity is _our_ best cover as well."

Valjean noted the stony faces of the two X5s and knew he wouldn't get anything more from them. Now, it was time for him to trust, something that didn't come naturally, but would be necessary just the same.

"What do you need from me?"

"We need to find evidence linking the NLU to the Pulse," Coreen stated bluntly.

Valjean didn't look surprised. Instead, a grim smile spread over his sophisticated face as he pieced together the basic outline of their plan.

"Not an easy request. But it's possible."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

With determined strides, Logan Cale walked into his apartment and shook off the drops of water clinging to him from the outdoors. It took only moments before he stripped off his outer jacket to reveal a green turtleneck, before heading toward his computer room, a destination unsurprising to the figure watching him.

He was an incredibly sexy man, Max admitted as she waited in the darkness, unwilling to reveal herself just yet. Sitting or standing he communicated an aura of purpose and passion. And capability, she thought, as she watched his long fingers beginning to type with practiced assuredness. He was a rare find, a man of such capabilities who hadn't let his own talents blind him to the feelings of others. Who used his gifts, not for his own gratification, but for others.

Not for the first time, Max wondered what such a man had been to her, genetically enhanced soldier that she was born and hard-nosed chimera that she chose to be.

This time, she was determined to find out.

Moving in such as way that rustled her clothing, she watched Logan jump slightly and roll his eyes in annoyance as he realized it was her.

"Max. I don't suppose there is any way to do that without startling the hell out of me?" he asked, his intense blue eyes meeting with hers and causing a flutter in the pit of her stomach.

"Nothing as amusing."

"Ahh… so what brings you here? I don't suppose I could talk you into dinner?"

Max didn't answer immediately, but paused to look around the room, as if measuring its contents. It was the first sign that something was up.

"Where were you?" she deferred, not quite ready to start.

Logan eyed her with interest, but answered her question. "Two places. First, I had my follow up appointment with Sam today. He wants to start treatment within the week, and told me I can bid my exo good-bye for awhile. The second was a meeting with Matt Sung. He and a few other members of the informant net are starting to get antsy with no recent broadcasts. They're beginning to get worried about Eyes Only's safety."

Max nodded. "Maybe we can rustle something up about those weapon dealers. Nothing major, just put some heat on them and get your voice out there to allay fears."

"Perhaps, I'll look into it." Logan responded, before asking in a voice filled with curiosity, "So what did you do today?"

Max licked her lips before answering, a gesture that drew Logan's eyes to her mouth, which in turn reaffirmed Max's resolve to go forward with her conversation.

"Delivered packages mostly. One of the drops stimulated a new memory."

Raising his eyes in question, Logan steadily returned her gaze until Max explained, "I think I was leaving Seattle. We were at your family's cabin…."

She didn't need to go further, she saw the awareness in Logan's eyes even before he stated: "Ahh… I see."

"Not exactly your standard goodbye, for business partners," Max added, watching Logan carefully for any hints to his feelings. All she saw was wary alertness.

"I suppose not."

"So," Max prevaricated, nervous despite her resolve not to be, "what exactly were we… you know, to one another?"

Logan's eyebrows raised slightly as his blue eyes met her hesitant brown ones. He had a feeling the conversation had been headed somewhere like this.

Logan didn't want to hedge, but a simple answer wasn't possible. That very subject had been in a state of flux when she had been taken – and the preceding months had been a jumble of confused and complicated dances to and away from one another. It was a question he couldn't answer for himself, let alone to Max in her condition.

"That's the million dollar question, Max," he finally responded.

Her eyes frowned at what she perceived to be his equivocation. "Well spell it out for me," Max insisted, "I mean I have all these half memories of you, and us, but they don't really shed any light what we were – other than we spent a lot of time together."

He smiled slightly at that description of their relationship.

"I hate to break this to you, Max, but I have all those memories of us and I still don't know what we were… or are for that matter."

Her eyes searched his for a few moments, looking for any trace of deception or sarcasm. When she didn't find it she pushed on, determined to at least be on even ground with him.

"Well you must know something more," she persisted. "How about you try and answer something simple – did we at least like each other, consider ourselves friends."

Logan smiled, "Most of the time."

She caught the playfulness of his reminiscence, but felt frustrated that she couldn't share in it. "What does that mean exactly?"

Noticing the edge to her voice, Logan decided to be as thorough in his answers as possible. He didn't want to over simplify things, but half-answers would only leave her angry and possibly push her away.

Sighing slightly he tried again, "We were friends Max. You've saved my life; I've helped save yours. We use to spend a lot of time together just enjoying one another's company: playing chess, eating, sharing stories, but we also spent a fair bit of time arguing…" When he saw her eyebrow raise, he couldn't help but add with a smile, "You can be pretty stubborn you know."

She responded with an amused smile of her own, "And I bet you had nothing to do with those disagreements…" she challenged.

"Well," Logan acknowledged, "I might have contributed a bit of pig-headedness on my own side."

"Thought so," Max bantered back. It was easy to see how the two had enjoyed trading barbs. "What were most of those fights about, oh innocent one?"

"Well let's see." Logan stalled, determined to keep the back and forth light, "There was your reckless disregard for your own safety when it came to your family…. And what you might have seen as a slightly unhealthy preoccupation with my work."

"An obsession with Eyes Only?" Max inquired.

"You might have used that word once or twice to sum up my… focus." Logan conceded.

Despite the lightheartedness of their tones, Max took a minute to ponder this new information. The fact that they had fought about the amount of time he spent working, when Max already knew that part of their relationship based on her work for Eyes Only, seemed to suggest that friendship wasn't the sum of their relationship.

Still keeping her mood easy she inquired, "So if I didn't want you to waste your time saving the world what exactly did I want you to do… cook me supper?"

Logan's eyes lost their teasing quality, though he too kept his voice good-natured, "Sometimes. Other times you wanted me to get a life – layback, relax, go to Crash, or take a vacation."

He knew where this was headed.

"And I wanted you to do these things with me?" Max asked.

"Most of the time, although you did suggest I stop calling you once or twice."

"What about go to bed?" In true Max fashion the question had been asked with obscure bluntness, and Logan answered in kind.

"You did suggest I needed more rest from time to time." His eyes were hard, challenging her to outright ask the question.

"What about with me?"

"You don't sleep."

"Cut the crap, Logan, were we lovers?"

"What exactly is your definition of lovers?" Logan bit back.

Max glared at him. "Did we sleep together? Have intercourse? Bang the gong?" Were we friends with benefits or one-time fuck buddies? Did… we… have… sex?!"

"Bang the gong, it's been a while since I've heard you use that colorful euphemism." Logan mused, knowing it would tick her off.

"Logan!"

"The answer to your question, did we have sex is no, Max, we never had sex."

A silence stretched out between them before Max finally muttered, "Damn, was that so hard to say?"

Logan didn't answer, and Max instinctively knew that there was more to it than a simple no. Her mind searched for a further explanation and it alighted on the fact that Logan was paralyzed. Following her thoughts, her eyes flickered down his body briefly.

Recognizing her unspoken conjecture, Logan answered: "And no, that has nothing to do with it. At least not like that."

She didn't bother to hide what she had been thinking and met his gaze unashamedly. She was the only person Logan knew who could do that; candidly and brusquely reference his disability without embarrassment or condescension. Her attitude had been one of his best wake-up calls.

Again they both paused. Max wasn't sure how to go forward. She believed he was telling her the truth; they had never had sex and it wasn't because he couldn't, but she knew there was more to it – she was sure of it. All of Max's intuition screamed it, and everything about their current interaction was… electric. How could their previous relationship been devoid of that.

"So you're saying we were strictly platonic?" the disbelief in the question was evident.

He didn't answer at first, but the intensity in his striking eyes made her insides clench. Instead of directly answering, Logan responded with a question of his own, asking in a silky voice that reminded her of a physical caress: "What do you remember, Max?"

Her physical and emotional responses to him unnerved her, and she reached deep for quick retort: "Well for one, I remember your lips all over me when I woke up here a few weeks ago."

He smiled at that, a sexy suggestive smile. "Yeah I remember that too… and your response."

"Friends don't usually perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on another friend with a concussion."

Her sarcastic tone was so like every previous conversation that they had ever had that Logan couldn't help but test her memory.

"Maybe I was just emotional…" he countered, his eyes belying his words.

She paused. The familiar flutter of a memory just out of reach touched her. Her hesitation was what Logan had been looking for. Plying gently this time, Logan asked: "What do you remember Max?"

For the first time tonight, her eyes seemed unsure. To tell him would be exposure, and yet if she didn't tell they would never get anywhere.

"I remember events, conversations, objectives… but…"

He didn't attempt to interrupt her but waited for her to continue.

"Things are missing."

"Things?" he prompted.

"It's like I'm an outside observer in my own memories. I can watch your expressions and hear both our words…but what I'm really thinking and…feeling is still out of reach."

"Is that something you can do Max? With the memory loss strategy I mean."

She thought about it before replying: "I suppose so; I mean there is a difference between knowing something and feeling it – I just have no idea how I would have gone about separating the two…. Or why."

"And you thought I might be able to help you with that."

"Maybe."

"Max…" Logan sighed, running his hands through his disheveled hair. "Our relationship when you left was at a point of transition…"

"Transition?"

"Almost exactly in the moment of transition if you can picture that."

She could, or expected that she had a good idea what he meant. So her and Logan had been what? On their first date? Making out? Heading for the bedroom? Right before everything had gone down and she had been taken by Manticore. It made sense then why Logan would be at such a loss to define them now. She almost felt sorry for him. Rather than asking for a more literal picture of their "transition" Max approached him from a different angle.

"Hadn't we known each other for a while before that?"

"Exactly one year,"

"And we never got around to transitioning before then…"

"It was complicated."

"Define complicated."

"I can't speak for you Max, though I know your unusual background makes it difficult for you to get close to people – both for their own safety and because of your own emotional boundaries. But my own experiences, both recent and past, also made me, make me… reluctant to get involved emotionally with someone."

"How so?"

This wasn't the first time Logan had been asked this type of question – Bling had nearly made a second career out of it – but it was the first time he'd ever attempted to answer honestly.

"When you and I met Max, I'd been doing Eyes Only broadcasts for over three years in addition to a year of preparation. By that time I'd already been engaged twice, married and divorced once, and had a semi-successful career as a journalist."

Max nodded, the edge of her mind a memory was nibbling. "Valerie…"

"That's right."

Their eyes met and once again Logan felt the current of attraction pass between them. How he had managed to deny it for as long as he did confounded him; he had been in deep denial.

"So you what? Didn't want to be hurt again?"

"More like I didn't want anyone else to be hurt by me and my activities." Logan answered. "Eyes Only by its very nature creates enemies. I knew that if I took that on, I could never expose anyone to that. It wouldn't be fair."

"Not every woman needs taken care of."

"Maybe not, but I was pretty sure I was incapable of sustaining a healthy relationship anyway, so it worked out on both ends."

"What changed?" Max couldn't help but ask.

"You." He said bluntly, his eyes burning into her. Max felt the passion, the connection.

"Me?"

"Yeah." And then he gave her a heart-stopping smile. God, when he smiled it made her forget everything else, including what could potentially seem like a corny pick up line. Something about Logan made it seem both sincere and sexy, and Max felt herself drawn to him.

She smiled back, and took a step closer to him, "Did I feel the same way?"

"You gave me some cause to think so," Logan flirtatiously stated back, his eyes flicking meaningfully to her lips.

One more small step forward, and Max had entered into the circle of Logan's personal space.

Retaining his gazed, Max boldly asked, "And how did I do that?"

Logan felt the deep throb in his body intensify at her words and tone. It was the perfect opening, to forego speech and show her with the type of deep aching kiss that his heart and body were clamoring for.

Too perfect.

Even as Max tilted her lips upwards in open invitation, Logan recognized the discordant note in her actions. A loving Max was soft, self-deprecating, gentle. This Max was seductive and dangerous – with an agenda beyond the obvious. He almost didn't care.

Dropping his gaze brazenly to her lips, he crept a few centimeters closer and swallowed down a groan of desire. Then, unexpectedly, he raised his eyes to hers.

The move was startling.

They were so close that she could see the rings of different colored shades in Logan's eyes and he could see the chocolate depths that spoke of vulnerability.

Logan told her softly: "You told me I was your family."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**So here's my question: how do you feel about the physical interaction of our couple? Wish it would remain PG, or are you willing to follow this story onto the M page? Let me know.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Happy Pulse Day!**

**XXXXXX  
**

_Logan told her softly: "You told me I was your family." _

A three second pause and Logan stepped away from her, leaving her to consider his statement.

It was a bold move; one that neither of them could have foreseen.

Logan had responded on instinct, rejecting what he intrinsically knew was nothing more than a mirage of Max's desire.

She'd been so sure that he would attempt to close the distance and move things onto a physical level. She had been counting on it, needing to classify him, to regulate his existence to some form of the dark and dank human experience she could remember.

In her world, people acted selfishly, cheating and lying for what took their fancy. Sure there was friendship and fun; laughter and freedom, but Max knew, at the end of the day, all anyone every really had was themselves. And to preserve one's self there was nothing one wouldn't sink to. So life had taught her, even if she hadn't totally wanted to believe it.

And perhaps that was the larger problem, she hadn't want to, in fact she still didn't. She wanted to believe in hope, and goodness, the fundamentally positive bent of human nature. Because despite everything that Manticore had taught her, Max had always wanted to believe that her siblings were okay, that friends wouldn't sell out if they learned her secret, and that someone out there gave a damn about more than themselves.

She remembered thinking about that not long before she'd stumbled into Logan Cale's world. For that, and many other reasons, Logan was a dangerous and seductive force. It seems through sheer will, he'd commanded things into being.

And with his help, Max had found both support and refutation to her greatest hidden desires. As her spotty memory supplied, she'd found that her siblings had both lived and died; she had let Cindy in, but she'd also been sold out by Hannah… that life was vastly more complicated than a series of struggles between good and evil.

And somewhere amid the grayness, Logan lived. If he was legit, it would rip apart Max's entire worldview. She could no longer just be cynical, she'd have to sad. Sad because there was the potential for everyone to live better, to be more, but they had ultimately failed. She'd be dissatisfied because she'd finally know how much she could have had.

So she'd done her best to pigeon-hole him, box him into a rich-playboy stereo-type that would have had him reaching for her at an inappropriate moment. A dirty trick, but Max knew as soon as she'd felt the ghost of Logan's lips touching hers, she would have been able to pull back and step away from him – both physically and emotionally. He'd have been classified with Leo and Darren, and numerous other nameless faces that had attempted to come on to her. And perhaps, she would have gotten a little of her own back for that trick he'd pulled in front of the mirror that day before the accident…

Somewhere in the rational part of Max's mind she recognized that that scenario had played out a long time ago. That whatever the two of them were then was not what they were now. However, the memory still stung her pride and made her cringe in self-awareness.

She'd felt so undesirable at that moment. Stupid for thinking a guy like Logan, handsome, wealthy, and powerful, could want a woman like her. The humiliation had been compounded by learning he's known of her chimeric origins. His actions seemed to confirm what Max had always suspected – that once someone knew about her he or she would pull away.

Immature though it had been, and unnecessary, Max had wanted to confirm that he desired her. She wanted to tempt him into reaching for her as he hadn't then. But once more he'd walked away leaving her feeling… vulnerable.

It was pure shock that kept her immobilized, long enough for the import of his words to sink in.

_You told me I was your family._

His words echoed through her consciousness, banging into places of acute emotional intensity. Did he have any idea how important words like that were to her? How deep their relationship had to of become for her to utter a phrase that put him on par with the children who had been in hell with her. Those who were bonded to her by blood, experience, tears, and death?

The look burning look in his eyes hinted that he did. And what's more, he seemed to have every intention of claiming his place in her world. It sent a chill up her spine, and left her immobilized in front of the large picture window as she waited for him to make the next move.

Logan didn't wait long. He knew how rare it was to approach an X5 on an emotional level and not have her run. So he willed his legs to move, the exo feeling much heavier after his intense session with Sam. They took him to his office, where Logan opened a drawer and slid back the panel covering the contents. His gun was still there, sitting accusingly, but so too was a small key. Grasping it determinedly, he made his way back into the sitting room and knelt before a small table with a seemingly ornamental drawer, ignoring his own discomfort at the move. Quickly he unlatched the lock.

Although she made no move to turn, Logan knew Max was aware of his every gesture. If she'd had her full memory back, he was sure that she would watch the proceeding with interest, intrigued that after all these months he still had a spot or two in his apartment where he could maintain a shred of privacy. In all honesty, Logan had purposely kept it that way, well aware of Max's observant nature and lively curiosity. And while Logan was more than happy for his apartment to have an open door policy with her, he was cogitative of the fact he might still need to maintain some places of secrecy.

So the small, shallow compartment which he opened now had contained a host of different items during his year with Max. At first it had contained the backup disks to his Eyes Only files, unsure of whether he could trust her with such a valuable commodity. Then, for months, after he'd learned to trust Max professionally it had contained his journal, filled with his private thoughts and poetic snippets of feeling. After she'd caught him writing one day, there had been no more point in hiding it and he'd been content to take her teasing inquisitiveness with only a shred or two of discomfort. The drawer had been empty for a while after that, until Lydecker had passed off the pictures of a bloody, child Max fresh from her first kill. At first, he'd kept the pictures close at hand, hidden in plain sight. As the days wore on, he found their presence too oppressive and had transferred them to the drawer, slightly curled and bent to fit. That was until the day he decided to shred them along with his uncle's last check. From then on the drawer had remained empty, much like his apartment.

Since Max's return, however, its contents had grown. Now, it contained one slim manila folder filled with an assortment of papers. It was the fruition of an exhaustive search, the product of every free moment that Logan hadn't been researching information on the NLU.

Now the time had come to give it to her, and Logan felt an odd sense of symmetry at revealing both the drawer's location along with the information Max had asked him to find almost two years ago.

He just wished it contained better news.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**France…**

"Computer science? Why did it have to be computer science… I hated our IT classes back at Manticore," Alec whined as he buttoned up his dress shirt and adjusted his tie.

"You should be grateful Valjean was able to get us a believable cover so quickly," Coreen admonished even as she stepped in front of Alec to adjust his slightly off center knot.

"And that's another thing, why do all of these pencil pushers have to be so formal? For once, I'd like to go undercover in something other than formal wear. Maybe a wet suit. What do you say, do some recon with me in a bikini?" Alec leered.

Rolling her eyes as she stepped away from him, Coreen stated, "Just remember to try to come across as intelligent to the hiring committee."

"Which brings me back to the question, why is a terrorist organization hiring IT people?" Alec stated as he slipped on the wire rim glasses with no prescriptive lenses.

"Didn't you listen at all when Valjean gave us our cover?" Coreen huffed. "the NLU headquarters is an IT company on the books. Occasionally, it hires people who actually do IT stuff to maintain its cover. With two of its more innocent employees suffering from a sever mugging, they are in need of new employees. Which is where we come in – did you at least bother to memorize your resume?"

"Every word," Alec winked. "Perfect recall."

"So why did I just need to …." Coreen left off, well aware the Alec had just played her, again. "Well, then try to at least remember that once we leave this building we're taking separate routes. We both have copies of the program Logan created to infiltrate the servers. We only associate at work, providing they actually hire you, and we don't move on inserting the spy software until after we get far enough into their mainframe to upload it. Any questions?"

"Yeah. Let's say I find one of my fellow employees really hot," Alec smiled, "Could I say ask her out for a drink?"

Coreen rolled her eyes once again, but did acknowledge his baiting remark, "Not a bad way to meet under false pretenses," she allowed, giving him a slight smile. "Plus, it might not be all bad to exchange intel every so often."

XX

It was that smile which Alec had in mind two hours later as he was ushered into a room with the head hunter. The woman blinked as she watched him stroll in and swallow slightly before asking him about his "alma mater". Alec gave her an charming smile back. Apparently, gaining employment at NLU headquarters was going to be easier than he suspected.

Not for the first time, he thanked his creators for making him attractive.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

As Logan straightened with the folder in hand, he felt a sharp stab of pain run from the middle of his lower back all the way up to his shoulders. When Max had asked what Logan had been up to today, he hadn't been entirely forthcoming. Yes, he had visited Sam Carr, his physician, and yes the neurological doctor had indeed told Logan he would begin the physical therapy portion of his treatment later that week. But what Logan had left out was that he had already begun the chemical treatment that day.

Apparently, the Manticore doctor's notes had been extremely detailed and after a short follow-up conversation with a nervous, but still walking Manticore test subject, Sam had been convinced there was no need to delay the process.

With Sam as the leading doctor in spinal nerve damage on the west coast, it had been relatively easy to obtain the chemical compounds and understand the complexities of the procedure. Too easy, there had to be a rub, Logan had thought, and his suspicions had soon proved to be true.

Unlike his first recovery which had been gradual and relatively pain free, Sam had warned that this procedure would be much faster and more painful. The time it took to regenerate the spinal cord was relatively short- with direct shots of concentrated pluripotents being injected into the lower back. However, the immune suppressants that needed to simultaneously be administered as well as the constant injections to an area rapidly regaining sensation – would be, the notes hinted, unpleasant. So too, the notes stated, were the months of agonizing physical therapy that test subject Bethel had had to endure to replace the muscle in his lower body, the immune suppressants making it impossible for the pluriplotents to regenerate the atrophied muscles.

That was one area in which Sam had hoped for better recovery results in Logan. The use of the Exo-skeleton had kept Logan's muscles in constant use – removing the need for physical therapy and allowing for more normal movements of the lower extremities. It was to be expected that after the initial regeneration, Logan would need little time to recover full mobility.

Still, Sam didn't down play down what the next two weeks would be like for him. Logan had just hoped the pain killers Sam had administered that afternoon would last longer, putting off the effects of the regeneration slightly.

His hopes were suddenly dashed by the grunt of pain the slid past his lips and to Max's waiting ears. He was forced to sit on the nearby couch – grateful that he'd at least been free from pain for the first half of their conversation. As long as he didn't move too much, he should be alright for now.

"Speaking of family, Max," he started, hoping to distract from his discomfort. "I have something that belongs to you that I've been working on for a long time."

Drawn by both his unusual actions and words, Max drew nearer, perching on the couch so that she was facing him. She was careful to maintain space between them, acutely aware of the pangs of rejection still coursing through her at his earlier actions. However, the intense blue eyes that looked over at her contained nothing of distance or dismissal, instead they were wholly focus on her, summing her up and taking her in. She found herself staring back, doing the same even as the electricity between them began to spark anew.

It was only after a hard swallow that Logan seemed able to pull away by looking down at the nondescript folder in his lap. Softly, but firmly he began.

"You know that before we found out that you were alive I was able to break into Renfro's e-mail address and gain access to sensitive information."

"Yeah. I remember." Max affirmed with none of her usual attitude, sensing the gravity of Logan's mood.

"It allowed us to make the connection between Renfro and the NLU; it also was my first indication that you were still alive when I found the e-mail stating…"

"Logan," Max interrupted was she saw as an uncharacteristic rant, "I know."

"Right," Logan confirmed before clearly his throat "Thing is, I found an e-mail earlier, before all that went down, which I thought might have applied to you and your… background."

Opening the file, he pulled out a printed copy of the e-mail in Renfro's account title "Lost Surrogate" and handed it over to Max who scanned it quickly, coming to the same conclusion as him.

"You think this is my… Logan, do you think this could be my mother she's talking about?"

The e-mail in question had been sent during Max's reindoctrination period, when her genetic anomaly, which had prevented her from deteriorating – unlike her clones – had caused Renfro to begin a nationwide search for the missing surrogate, convinced it was something about the woman's own genetics which had influenced her offspring. The e-mail had caused an outburst of rage in him when Logan had discovered it, angered by the fact he finally had found a lead when Max was no longer around to care.

"I know it is, Max." Logan answered gently, taking a photograph from the now momentous file and handing into Max's shaking fingers.

The young woman in the photo bore a startling resemblance to Max, though her cheek bones weren't as defined, her eyes slightly different, her lips not quite as full – yes still so similar, nevertheless.

"We got the DNA results back this morning." He tilted the file toward her so she could see the result, of which she barely glanced at before returning her greedy gaze back to the photograph in her hand. "Not a full match, of course, since they manipulated much of your genetic makeup, but without a doubt a blood relative. And given that she was a surrogate at Manticore…"

"She's alive?!" Max breathed, unshed tears glistening in her eyes, hope alighting her voice.

"No." Logan responded immediately and unequivocally, regret permeating that one word. It had been the question he had been dreading, and he'd answered as he needed to, snapping out the response like pulling off a band aid. He let it sink in before continuing, "She's gone, Max, died soon after the pulse, a flu outbreak. The DNA was from an old sample."

Logan didn't elaborate on how he'd gone about getting the sample, content to leave it to Max's considerable intelligence and knowledge of his extensive network of eyes only operatives. "She was an only child, but you have more family, Max, further back, but blood nonetheless."

Max didn't answer, but continued staring down at the photo. It was printed on glossy computer paper and looked to be a high school photo of sorts, just a black and white head shot. The woman in it wasn't smiling broadly, but had a soft, almost sly grin, like she knew a funny secret but wasn't about to share.

"Elena…" Max whispered, remembering the name from the e-mail and trying it out for the first time. She found it to be lyrical rolling off her tongue. _Elena_, her mother.

"There's more. Not much, but I was able to piece together a bit of a history. Mostly statistical things, date of birth, hospital. Also, some information from her senior year book. I… I also found some history of your heritage. When your family emigrated, what your great-grandparents names were, that sort of thing," Logan offered, watching her carefully.

Silently, he handed over the folder, cursing its slimness even as Max took it from him. She was quiet, pensive, but when Logan moved to stand, ignoring the unpleasant tingling of pain at the base of his spine, he was stopped by Max's grip on his arm.

"Stay."

He nodded dumbly, content to be where ever she wanted and particularly pleased he didn't have to hide his desire to watch her. She seemed breezily to accept his heavy gaze on her, hiding back none of the emotive expressions that flitted across her face as she reverently looked through the scant information, occasionally asking questions about its origin.

Logan watched as her eyes returned again and again to the photograph, even as she smiled as she read through the list of activities Elena Rodriguez had been involved in during her teen years. He barely noted the minutes, and then hours that slipped by before Max turned back to him, her eyes still alight with emotion, her look one of open tenderness – a look he had barely glimpsed during their entire time together, and which was now fully adorning her beautiful face.

"Thank you, Logan. No one has ever… thank you."

Even as she spoke, Max unconsciously moved forward, leaving only an inch or space between them.

"Of course, Max. I wish I'd found it soon…" Logan reply was lost as he felt her hand snaking behind his head, her finger splayed through the sensitive strands. It was immediately followed by a gentle, but un-resistible pressure that tugged his head down as Max pressed her soft lips against his own.

The kiss was supposed to be nothing more than the spontaneous overflow of emotion. A reaction to his amazing gift, and her overwhelmed feelings. The stuff of overwrought senses.

But it wasn't. It was more. Immediately the presence of hotter feelings could be detected, just below the surface of their closed mouthed kiss. As if on cue, Logan's hand reached behind her head, sinking into her curls and pulling her closer. Not deeper, just closer, as if willing her to take the extra step and open her mouth to him and let him inside.

Pulling away an inch or two, Max whispered again against Logan's lips, "Thank you."

"Max?"

Max heard the longing in his voice, the permission he was asking to reconnect their lips and give into whatever madness had overtaken them both this evening. Unbidden the memory of their kiss outside his uncle's cabin – the one from this afternoon – sprang to her mind and Max had the sudden suspicion that this, them, was inevitable. They were on a collision course she couldn't stop, and that thought made her wary.

Her lack of control with him bothered her greatly; it was what motivated her earlier to push the seduction. It unnerved her that she had still given him that kiss, only without the rancor and contempt she had intended. He had gotten to her again.

She didn't have the heart to outright reject him, not after what he had did for her. So instead, she pulled back farther and stated as calmly as possible. "I gotta jet."

When he didn't immediately respond, she added, "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah," he replied, his eyes dropping back to her lips again, before returning to her eyes.

The unanticipated reaction brought a small smirk to Max's face as she realized that perhaps Logan was just as out of control as her when it came to them. The thought did her good even as she slipped the picture of her mother into the inner pocket of her leather coat and clutched the information to her chest.

For all that, they seemed to work well together as a team and Max found herself acknowledging that what Logan had just given her, was indeed a form of control that Manticore had taken away years before… a root in history, a touchstone to a past, a connection with something beyond herself, and a link to humanity as a whole. Sure it wasn't the fairy tale reunion, but then Max had never expected that. At least now she knew her mother's name.

And that was something.

For the second time that day a memory bubbled to surface.

_She was at the top of the space needle, looking down at the bystanders as thoughts filtered through her head. She remembered meeting Hannah, and the words the woman had spoken to her, she remembered being told about her mother … she wasn't like the others…she was about your age._

"_So now I guess I know," she had thought. "I had a mother who loved me. And maybe she's still out there somewhere. Like that changes anything in my life. Except the thing is… it changes everything." _

And it had.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Manticore…**

If what Max was feeling that night was a re-connection to the human race that had made her, then Troy was feeling just the opposite… sincere disdain and separation from a race of beings that could do all the things he's experienced in his young life.

For over a week, Troy had been perched outside Manticore's gaits waiting patiently for the contact that Brin was supposed to make whenever she could make it to the outer forest. He had known that it might take a while and so he had bunkered down, ever vigilante as he waited for his signal.

He was, therefore, watching when the first vehicles containing South African red soldiers pulled up. He had witnessed as their handler were met at the door by Renfro and as huge steel cages were assembled in the front courtyard. He witnessed the corralling of his fellow soldiers as they were pulled into the open air cages, and lifted by revved up Red soldiers and transported to various locations, including some onto the trucks that the Reds had came in on. He was forced to endure when a member of the Beta team, a young soldier who Troy had worked with on several occasions, had rebelled against the treatment and was brutally put down by the Reds. He saw a limp, obviously weak Brin come up at the end of the line and wait to be loaded up. It was only after she had been loaded in that he saw the hand gesture she surreptitiously flashed him. One to abort his mission and a second signaling enemy combatants.

Hell, that wasn't something Troy needed to be told. He was familiar with the Reds, having faced them on several missions. Always potential enemies from America's pseudo ally, their presence was a direct sign of Renfro's defection. No member of the U.S. military would allow two dozen red soldiers into one of its facilities, well aware of the unit's superior combat skills, despite its inferior longevity and tactics.

It was this lack of ingenuity that Troy used as he scouted around the base for the next few days, slowly gaining intel through his ability to hide and listen, weakness in security that had never existed when Manticore had been fully operational. However, through an air vent in the roof above Renfro's office he was able to listen in on several important communications between Renfro and the higher-up NLU operative who had been sent as leader of the Reds.

XXX

"We were disappointed to learn of your failures, Madame. We had high hopes that the X5 phase would be completed before the end of the next cycle. Now we may have to postpone infiltration into the Canadian borders," Commander Xander Kebaski stated loftily, his exceptionally large frame adding authority to his presence.

Renfro gritted her teeth slightly before taking up the conciliatory tone that she knew was expected of her, "My sincerest apologies. I did my best to make up for the genetics labs explosion, brought about by Donald Lydecker's betrayal – but apparently my out of the box thinking wasn't enough."

The man gave a slight grin, which in truth resembled more of a grimace. He was well aware of Elizabeth Renfro's propensity for blaming others for her own failures, while seemingly taking full responsibility. It was a trait the inner circle had thought would serve them well as the head of Manticore with the meddlesome American committee still in charge. Despite their best efforts, the NLU had yet to get enough votes into the counsel to overtake its functioning. An irksome fact given how little the organization bothered with America these days.

Since the Pulse and subsequent takeover of top positions in its government, the NLU had had very little cause to worry about the former superpower. Any attempts to reassert itself had fallen due to its bureaucratic divides, helped along only slightly by NLU members. It did, however, retain much of its military strength due to its transgenic program – the one thing that America seemed unwilling to offer up for sale since its catastrophic failure.

"Yes, selling off its worthless progeny was… creative. If ineffective," the man taunted lightly. "However, perhaps we can move to more useful measures."

"If we could breed them successfully, it would have reduced our production costs dramatically," Renfro interject sulkily.

"No matter. Since I was able to gain complete control of the South African Red population," he couldn't help but smirk at Renfro's small glower of anger – she would never rise higher than him in ranks after this, "And you have at least gained partial control of Manticore's X series by removing the dinosaurs left over from its inception. We should be able move forward."

"Which reminds me," Renfro added, "Have you managed to oust Kani?"

Xander frowned in response, annoyed by Renfro's implication. Zakes Kani was, like Donald Lydecker, a holdover from the original inception of the Red's program. In fact, he and Lydecker were old buddies and Kani had made it his single-handed mission to obtain information on a transgenic program from the colonel. Unlike Lydecker, however, Kani had not had the embarrassment of the X5 escape, or its equivalent, to hold him back in the ranks. Xander had struggled for many months to get the stalwart Kani removed from power so the NLU could take over the Reds' program. While Kani had indeed been removed from direct command, it had been a through a sort of promotion that left him still as an astute and annoying agent that he had to be careful not to provoke. It was also the one place where Renfro had done a better job in her commission; she, at least, had managed to get Lydecker declared an enemy of the state.

"Kani has been contained," Xander clipped. "In fact, enjoying his sinecure and taking a vacation to the Caribbean as we speak."

"Ahh, I see," Renfro stated breezily, conveying her disbelief. "Well since you're in charge now, what's our next step?"

Xander gave Renfro one final glare before answering, "We stay put for a while, no need to attract attention unnecessarily. We harvest some of your X5 female's ova, bring in some our scientists to begin research on how to merge it and Red series technology, and take stalk of how many X series we have on hand to act as field commanders since we won't be able to create larger groups."

"One breeding program to the next," Renfro replied, seeking credit for at least being on the right track.

"Except this time, it will be one that will culminate in the perfect soldier," Xander finished.

XXX

From his placement in the ventilation shaft Troy was hard pressed not to drop through the roof and kill them both where they sat.

It would be so easy, and in actuality they were both so weak. Even as they sat there and thought about how to manipulate the bodies of the super beings they controlled.

So this is what Max had meant when she refused to be bread like cattle, Troy thought.

She was right, he knew now. No transgenic should allow his or her offspring to be subject to these monsters. Well, one this was for sure Troy was finished will following others. It was time the X series realized that who and what they were had made them enemies to the humans surrounding them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**San Francisco…**

Zakes Kani greeted Donald Lydecker as the brother in arms he had once been rather than the fugitive that, according to the U.S. government, he now was. Zakes had served with Deck in a joint operation in Europe during the summer of 2015, giving him a lasting appreciation of both the X series and their main handler. It hadn't hurt that Deck had also saved his life.

During the subsequent years the two had remained on friendly terms. Although Zakes didn't carry the same emotional connection to his creations as Deck did, the two shared an unbreakable fidelity to their home countries that garnered respect in the other. It was this knowledge of Deck's allegiance that had Zakes seeking him out, despite the difficult he had in contacting the renegade.

Now, as they sat at one of the several noodle stands, scattered across the country that had been their meeting place of choice throughout the years, Zakes was well rewarded with for his persistence.

"So you are sure that Director Renfro is also part of this organization?" he sought to confirm.

"Oh, I'm sure." Lydeckered answered. "The bitch has been serving two masters since she got the top post; it just took some work from my kids to confirm it."

"Hmm… well that checks out largely with what I found out about Command Xander," Zakes responded, taking a moment to chew some noodles before continuing. "Unfortunately, most of the top officials in my country think that the sun shines out of his ass."

"Must be a trait all NLU operatives share." Lydecker answered.

The men, both staring straight ahead, granted themselves a small smile at their joint joke before returning to the business at hand.

"So how do we stop them from getting a hold of two extremely dangerous weapons?" Zakes asked.

"I wish I could tell you I had a plan, old friend."

"Then, you are not sure either?"

"Not me. But my 'weapons' do…" Lydecker stated wryly. Seeing Zakes confusion, Lydecker clarified, "The escaped X5s have taken over the operation on our home front. Guess it's time to let the kids take charge."

"Indeed." Zakes agreed, only mildly surprised that it had come to this. It's like he had been telling his government for years – advanced soldiers were good, but they need to be more than just walking tanks. They needed to think and act on their own like the transgenics of Manticore.

If either man saw the irony in his thoughts, they gave no indication of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Thanks to Lisa for Beta and to the DA lovers over on BBWW._


End file.
